Enfolding Grasps
by Wind of the Dawn
Summary: Life before and after Sam met the Transformers were simply incomparable. The biggest difference was that now Sam was in bigger danger than he had ever been in before. Unwilling to lose him, someone decides to take matter into their own hands.
1. Chapter 1 To Protect

Disclaimer: Transformers and any characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me (except for the Ferrari dude). This story is not written for any commercial purposes.

Title: Enfolding Grasps

By: Wind of the Dawn

Chapter 1 To Protect

_Italics: Thoughts_

:: Word :: : Cybertronian Communication

* * *

><p><em>It wasn't enough.<em>

_Even after all the precautions they've taken, the child still wasn't safe enough._

_Humans were fragile. Beings capable of breaking with the slightest pressure. Even though they were looking out for him in terms of safety from its other children, there still were other factors that could and would rip away the child cruelly from their embrace._

_That was unacceptable, a scenario so possible yet needed to be avoided at all cost._

_They would not lose him._

_The yellow one, Bumblebee, was brave and valiant. Protective of his charge and terrifying and efficient against any threats his charge could encounter. But was he enough?_

_They knew that he had other duties and other loyalties to the Prime. How far would he be willing to defy his leader in order to protect the child? Would it be far enough? And if his charge desisted against his protection, would he yield against all warnings and leave him in danger?_

_It had happened once before and could not happen again. _

_No. The child needed someone more dedicated. Someone wholly devoted towards his wellbeing and life. Someone who would not hesitate to cut all bonds in order to keep the child safe. Someone whose entire existence would revolve around him._

_Someone who would do __**anything**__ necessary to keep the child safe. _

_If there was no such person in the universe, then they would take matters into their own hands._

_So be it._

**_LineBreak_**

Ever since the events in Mission city and Egypt, everything that happened in life to Samuel James Witwicky felt pale and numb. Comparing events of a "normal" life and the current one he was leading (being hunted by Decepticons and their human like minions) just didn't cut out anymore. Anything short of planting a Decepticon in his lunch box would not bring out his usual shriek and evasive actions; it would instead evoke a monochromic "o" and a flat stare instead.

In his defence, after one spends the last few years of their life ritually communicating with giant robots (giant ALIEN robots) and glancing around their shoulders for menacing red optics or suspicious cars, how could someone not start to feel that a "normal" fright was overrated and hence act like a stunned rock?

Of course, his now low running emotional circuits combined with his shifty over-the-back glances would not remain unnoticed for long. Hence, when his marvellous friend Miles came to visit and noticed that Sam was seemingly being a bit down, he naturally decided that yes, perhaps a field trip would do wonders for him. One thing led to another, and soon Sam found himself roped into a boys-only trip to a current automobile show in town.

Though extremely disgruntled with the idea (for gods sake Sam lived with alien robots that could turn into spiffy cars), Sam readily agreed to his friends idea. Just as his luck would have it though, Bumblebee was scheduled to have a check up with Ratchet on the day and would be thus unable to accompany him.

But that was okay, after all, what could happen there?

_Famous last words._

**_LineBreak_**

It felt vaguely like a sense of detached horror.

Sam tried very hard to not gape as he watched the Navy blue Ferrari in front of him shift sluggishly on its newly extended legs as it tried vainly to stand on top of the overly garnished stage it used to sit on. Stretching out its slender arms like a toddler, it stumbled around the edge of the stage and slowly stepped down onto dry hard land, scratching the delicate stone paved ground with its sharp toes.

Twittering loudly, it swerved its delicate frame side to side as if to admire itself, and if cybertronian beauty scale was the same as human's it was certainly magnificent.

Its head was shaped almost like a human's, with something akin to an inverted black half-face mask covering the lower part of its face and a sleek visor swung across the back. The rest of its head was navy blue with the Ferrari's headlights framing the sides of its head like butterfly wings with space in between. Its gold optics were embedded close to the headlights, leading Sam to wonder idly through his horror if the bot would get blinded if they switched on. Meanwhile, its body, while large, was slightly smaller than Bumblebee's; and unlike Bee, it looked like it was built more for speed and flexibility than power. Doors aligned themselves upon its shoulders and aligned down until the elbow, which themselves led to a pair of hands with tipped claws. Its torso was pitch black tinged with blue, as was its lean legs that were attached to wheels on the back.

Overall, it was a sight to admire.

Now, if would only _stop trying to come near him!_

Stumbling backwards blindly, Sam hysterically tried to avoid the various projectiles being spilled across the floor courtesy of the clumsy (was that even possible) mech. For each step he took, the mech took equally with a much bigger range. In the process, it also increased property damage immensely.

"O God, O God, O God, _Stopstopstopstopstop!" _Shrieking in denial over the entire event itself, Sam looked on in horror as millions of dollars worth of cars and items were knocked all over the area. Surprising, the mech stopped as its foot just finished squashing a multi million dollar concept car beneath it.

The shriek of metal in the silence was deafening.

It was surprisingly eerie when the gold optics (Sam had never seen such a colour for optics before) started to stare intensely at him.

Feeling slightly like he had just entered an impromptu Mexican Standoff with the mech, Sam eyed it (him?) back. When his eyes started to water and sting though, he had no choice but to concede defeat. Such was the sting on his pride that when the mech moved closer to him he was utterly unaware.

Or maybe that was just because he was in shock.

Nearly his limit of just breaking out into a fit of screams, Sam practiced the art of calming one's self. When it failed, he sunk down feebly onto the floor and grabbed his head with both hands.

Ignoring the alarmed clicking that resulted from his meltdown, Sam rewinded his memories. How on earth did he end up like this again? It was only supposed to be a freakin visit to a show! A holiday kind of activity that aimed to destress a mind, not push it over eleven! O Primus, he was jinxed wasn't he? Everything he wanted normal would end up being revamped wouldn't it? _He would always remain a robot magnet wouldn't he?_

Sobbing into his knees Sam sunk further and further into the pits of hysteria.

He would have remained there too, if he hadn't hear a feminine shriek come from the other room.

Suddenly on overdrive, Sam jumped to his feet and lunged at the mech. Grappling his (though beautiful it looked masculine) sharp toes with wild abandon, Sam started to play a desperate game of thug and war with him. "Come on, come one, move it! Or we'll get caught by security and that'll open a whole new can of worms!"

Seemingly unwilling to harm the tiny human, the mech obediently shuffled along side Sam's cajoling, careful to not cut him with his claws. It got impatient though, when both of them along only managed to cross a grand total of 5 meters in a half a minute. Picking Sam up suddenly, it proceeded to stride (knocking apart more cars in the process) to the nearest wall and blasted a hole in it with a cannon that Sam swore he didn't have before.

Sam felt his soul float away.

Walking out into the daylight, the fifteen foot tall robot gently placed Sam on the ground. It then folded inwards with the usual cybertronian transformation sequence into a sparkling clean Ferrari again. Opening its drivers door open upwards, a sentient seatbelt shot out and pulled the shell shocked human into the cabin. Once tucked in and secure, the car drove off in a cloud of dust, conveniently ignoring the fact that the automobile show was now utterly ruined.

_**LineBreak**_

William Lennox stared in annoyance at the destruction.

Early in the morning and half-asleep, he received a frantic call from one of the night N.E.S.T operatives about a possible Decepticon attack. Instantly awake and prepared he rushed out into the biting cold of dawn and leaped into his jeep, driving madly to the autobot hanger of the base. With a good portion of their autobot allies in compulsory medical check up (Ratchet was a scary mech that no one wanted to cross), the team had deployed with only Ironhide and Jolt. Reaching the lock down site in record time, they had immediately seeked out the enemy and engaged in conflict with the team of shifty looking neon coloured tractors, smack bang in the middle of a town.

Will was now very convinced that the transformers all had a very poor grasp of stealth. Either that or they were all attention seekers.

I mean, seriously, neon pink and green?

After a long battle of yelling, shooting, and in Jolt's case whipping, the battle was finally won with Ironhide blasting the neon bots with his plasma cannon and Jolt electrifying the rest of them. Tired and dirty, they all started their long journey back to base; only to receive another message of a possible Decepticon attack.

Extremely cranky now, the group rushed to the latest attack site with their firearms brandished and ready to shoot, only to find that whoever had attacked the area (a car show of all places) had already packed up and left. They had also left a lovely parting gift of millions of dollars worth damaged cars for N.E.S.T, insurance unclaimable.

Damn it all.

"Sir, think there's something you need to hear."

Turning around to face his partner in combat, Will tangled his hand through his hair.

"What is it Epps?"

Sergeant Epps jogged over the debris littered ground briskly and stopped close to the Major. Far enough to not be suspicious, but close enough for whispered words. "A boy there was ravin bout his friend bein lost. Said somethin about cheering him up and bringin him here, then loosin him after."

"So? He could have just ran off during the incident."

" Well ..." Shifting lightly foot to foot Epps twitched nervously.

"Spit it out."

"It's the Kid sir."

Ice pooled into Will's gut as he slowly looked Epps in the eye. The kid, an affectionate nickname and code for Sam Witwicky, unofficial member of N.E.S.T and the Autobots group, was a prime target for revenge. The Decepticons had proven themselves to be willing to wait to achieve retribution, and as they had all the time in the world, that proved to be a frightful thing. One year after the whole Mission city drama, when things were thought to have been settled down, multiple Decepticon signals had suddenly appeared overnight mere kilometres away from the kid's house. Alarmed, Bumblebee had quickly evacuated the kid's and his parents (pet included) and drove off with them in the general direction of the rest of the Autobots. Lucky for them, Bee had the best stealth equipment of the group. Eluding the Decepticons completely, they had driven off safely. When the rest of the cavalry arrived, the Witwicky house was completely levelled. Neighbours reported hearing enraged roars and spiteful threats to 'the boy' not long after they left, but being afraid had not left their house to check. Then after the whole broadcast fiasco and Egypt, they all realized that Sam had an eternal target pinned on his head.

"Bumblebee."

"Negative sir. Jolt reported that Bumblebee's been undergoing maintenance since 06:00 morning."

"Dammit" This was worse than he thought " Does anyone else know about Sam's disappearance act?" The last thing they all needed was a group of half-maintained Autobots rushing out into the country on a man hunt.

"No sir."

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Will grimaced. To tell or not to tell. If Sam was really captured by the unknown then they had to get Autobot help to track and rescue him. On the other hand, if he was just out there somewhere enjoying a cup of coffee after a sprint away from the area ... The joys of paperwork.

"Sir?"

Decision made Major William Lennox raised his previously lowered head.

"Contact the Autobots, inform them of the possible kidnapping of Samuel Witwicky immediately."

"Roger that." Giving Will a last reassuring glance, Epps turned around and ran out of the room, presumably to directly inform one of Ironhide or Jolt about the disappearance of Sam.

Migraine building, Will looked down upon the giant scratches upon the debris riddled ground. Hands tightening, he narrowed his eyes. No one fucked with his friends.

_Hold on kid, we're coming._

**_LineBreak_**

Many miles away from the site, a navy blue Ferrari cruised smoothly down the deserted roads. Gears shifting and engines purring softly, the car seemingly glided across the road, letting no bumps or noise disturb its human passenger.

How curious.

After the boy (his creator. his charge. _hishishis_) had been pulled into the safe confines of the mech, he had somehow seemingly dropped into recharge. Observing his head drooping onto his shoulders uncomfortably, the Ferrari-mech had slightly reconfigured the inner structures of his current vehicle form in order to provide better comfort for him. Where there once was a seat at the driver's side, there was now a comfortable bed like structure supporting the sleeping boy. Aware that sudden jolt would potentially unseat the human, yet not wanting to create the discomfort of being restrained (_unacceptable_, _his charge would Not be caged or harmed by anything_) the safety belt had been reconfigured to wrap around the boy softy but securely.

Processor split on playback and driving, the mech analyzed all previous contacts between him and his creator. The creator spoke in another language (English, his processors informed him) and had seemed incapable of communicating in cybertronian. This factor had caused distress to the creator when he could not understand the communication attempts he had tried to relay (_unacceptable, all threats would be annihilated)_. In result, stress levels had raised and his creator had displayed alarming behaviour.

Unacceptable.

He would have to learn the language of English before his creator next came online, or another process of alarming behaviour might or would be repeated.

However, more of a priority was the status of his creator. According to pre-existing data available when he was created, humans were fragile creatures capable of being extinguished by the mildest of factors. Slightly higher temperatures would affect the hydration status of humans. Lack of certain nutrition's would affect the physical status of humans. Incomplete recharging cycles would result in lowered mental capabilities and worse. So many threats, so little time to download and process.

There was also the issue of incompatible combat practices and situations with his systems. He would have to recalculate them to factor in gravity and other such factors while moving. If not done perfectly, it would increase the risk of his creator being injured due to his own lack of mobility.

Unacceptable.

He would protect his charge, failure was not an option.

Determination set, the mech focused directly on first learning all possible threats and dangers to humans, as well as the methods available for nullifying them. Later, it would process English. Setting systems on auto drive and threat detection, the bot continued on its mission of finding a safe environment for its creator.

_He would be safe._

**_LineBreak_**

Grappling desperately at the struggling Bumblebee, Ratchet cursed yet again.

_Why Primus, of all days did you choose today for Sam to get kidnapped?_

Attempting to pin Bumblebee down upon the berth, Ratchet scowled as much as his mechanical face allowed him to. "Slaggit Bumblebee, _stay still!_". Though a significantly bigger and heavier mech than Bumblebee, it didn't necessarily mean that it was an easy job subduing him. Bumblebee was a young mech still in his youngling periods, nevertheless he was a fearsome opponent to face in the battlefield. If serious, he could have easily thrown off Ratchet in the current situation. When frantic over the safety of his precious charge, he could have wiped Ratchet off the map before he could even shutter his optics.

It was how he could do neither that Ratchet knew it was a bad idea to let him go.

"_Slaggit Bumblebee, stay still before I take my wrench to your head and leave you here offline while we go for Sam!_"

Bumblebee stopped for a moment before renewing his struggles with new vigour. Ratchet cursed again " Primus sake Bumblebee, stay still while I finish!"

"No! Sam's in danger! I have to find him!"

"And in the process run out of energon halfway finding him!"

"Wha-"

"Look down you idiot." Gesturing towards Bumblebee's armour Ratchet gazed dryly upon the flows of energon running down. Coolant pipes were half attached and in the process of being cleaned. The scout's legs were being re-adjusted to better suit the local percentage of gravity, and the previous struggle he had engaged in upon hearing the news of his charge had shaken loose some previously attached cables.

All in all, he was not fit for combat.

"Ratchet, I -"

"Quiet Bee, lie down for just a few minutes more and I promise you I'll be done."

A whine. "But Sam -"

"You will be no use to him in this condition."

Flinching back as if slapped, the canary yellow mech lowered his optics down in desperation. Waves of misery cascaded of him in response to his own guilt of not being with his charge when he needed him.

" Bee ..." Ratchet hesitantly reached out to touch the youngling's shoulder but the mech lifted his hand and pushed it away gently.

"Ratchet I ..." Looking up to Ratchet with an unidentifiable glow in his optics Bumblebee clenched his hands "Please hurry, I need to get to Sam." _and destroy whoever's taken him _were the words unspoken.

Nodding briskly, Ratchet continued his work. He would not be the only one seeking payment for the kidnapping of Sam.

_**LineBreak**_

Sam was dreaming.

Skies of ivory and stars that shined bright.

Cities of precious stones metal eclipsing the horizon, framing the land of metal lovingly with its shadows. Blinking lights stretched itself over the sky, etching out patterns of history and pride ("_glyphs" his mind whispered_). Mechanical figures raced around playfully along the streets, and laughter echoed across the streets. The wind curled around him lovingly, breathing into him life and hope.

It was beautiful.

_Where am I?_

The question was not answered, but Sam already knew the answer.

It was home.

* * *

><p>AN

And ... That's the end of the first Chapter!

Pats self on back.

For anyone confused, the Ferrari bot is not an actual character but an original character. Hope you all actually don't mind him that much cause he's kinda important for my plot bunny.

Never fear though, he's not meant to replace Bumblebee!

Gasps in mock horror.

They will COEXIST! As much as they can anyways.

And yes ... He refers to Sam as both his creator and charge. It's not a typo. As for why ... Mwa ha ha ha

This is set in Sam's hometown. Let's just say that he went home for the holidays and reunited with his old friends.

:: Feeds bunny Chocolate ::

:: Bunny stomps on alter ego's feet ::

Anyways ... this is one of my first few fanfictions. So ... helpful reviews and comments would be much appreciated!

Cya!

Wind of the Dawn out ~~


	2. Chapter 2 Revelations

Disclaimer: Transformers and any characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me (except Ferrari bot). This story is not written or used in any commercial purposes.

Title: Enfolding Grasps

By: Wind of the Dawn

Chapter 2 Revelations

Little roar of the day: For some reason, my scene break lines are always deleted. _WHY?_

* * *

><p>When Sam woke up with one of the best sleeps he ever had in his life (God, since when was his bed so <em>comfortable<em>?), he fully expected to see either his lovely white room ceiling or perhaps the familiar ceiling of Bee's vehicle form. He was thus justifiably confused when instead both, what he was looking at was a dark velvety ceiling that was much closer to his face than what he was usually used to.

Sitting up on the reclined chair (leather just like Bumblebee's) the smelt vaguely like the ocean, Sam took a fleeting glance at his surroundings.

The interior of the car he was in was dim. Glass shaded so dark it was almost impossible to look outside or inside were in place of the windows and the screens. From the little gaps left open at the windows, Sam could see the sun shining brightly outside as well as hear the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

Aaa. He was near the sea. That would explain the smell.

...

Wait a second. He didn't remember going anywhere near the sea...

Suddenly, all events were recalled in a rush of panic. The hole in the wall. The Damaged Cars. The Ferrari mech _kidnapping _him. Unbuckling his Seatbelt quickly, Sam literally threw himself at the door. Discovering that it was locked after struggling with the handle a few times, he tried desperately to climb out of the gap in the window. Alas, while Sam was by no means buff, he was too big to climb through a tiny gap meant for air ventilation. For what good it could do, he was seriously considering bashing into the glass when a stern voice stopped him.

"Creator, kindly desist from panicking. Your pulse rate has risen to dangerous levels."

Giving himself whiplash when he turned around, Sam stared around in horror as his mind processed the meaning of him being in the grasp of this stranger. O God, it was awake. He was going to die here, now. Under the claws of this mech. OhnoOhnoOhno-

"Creator" The voice calmly repeated once more "Calm down or I will be forced to act."

_Well, _Sam thought through his haze of panic, _that doesn't sound good._

Forcing himself to take deep breaths, he gripped the edge of the leather seat tightly. He was here, with some strange mech, without Bumblebee. This wasn't good. In fact, It was simply SNAFU. If Bumblebee hesitated to let him out his sight before, after this stunt he was sure go full on mother hen on him now. Goodbye freedom, Sam was sure he was going to be followed everywhere for eternity from that day onwards.

That is, _if_ he got back.

"What do you want" Sam whispered hoarsely into the cabin. For a moment, silence prevailed through the darkness, and then the door flicked itself open.

"Get out."

Startled by the sudden order, Sam stared incomprehensively at the dashboard. When it dawned on him that the door was wide open though, he stumbled out of the Ferrari and ran a distance away from it. Knowing that he would not be able to outrun, hide maybe, the mech, Sam turned around and faced the transformed Ferrari reluctantly.

With the sun shining down upon him, the mech's paintjob glittered brightly. Imposingly tall compared to the human, he kneeled down onto his knees in order to get closer to him. Gold optics gazed intensely into brown eyes and he began to speak slowly, as if afraid that Sam would bolt away.

"Creator" The mech said, "I will not harm you."

While relieved that apparently the mech wasn't gunning to gut him, Sam was still rattled from a combination of being so far away from home and his friends, and being taken to some unknown obscure place by a stranger. Looking up at the mech, he replied "Then take me back home."

For a moment, the mech seemed as if it was trying to puzzle out a very intriguing puzzle. Whirling and rapid clicking could be heard with Sam's human ear, and he guessed that the mech was probably doing some fast thinking, or information processing as Bee would say. Taking this chance of respite, Sam once again took in their current surroundings.

Pale gold sand covered the beach they were parked on, and gentle waves lapped at the beach. Seagulls were flying above them, casting shadows upon the ground they flew merrily above. Distantly, Sam could make out the outline of a raggedy cliff that spanned towards them in a descending pattern. It was a beautiful place. But at that moment, Sam didn't have the mind to admire the scenery. He was too busy trying to figure out what the mech wanted and how on earth did they get there if there was nothing but sand and cliffs surrounding them for miles.

Weird.

"Creator, may I obtain your preferred alias?"

"Huh?" Seeing that the human obviously did not understand him, the mech repeated himself.

"Your alias Creator." The mech patiently explained "Databases have indicated that your designation is Samuel James Witwicky. Though I have no reluctance against referring to you as so, perhaps you would prefer to be referred to with another substitution designation?"

O. _O_. Finally understanding that the mech was asking him what he wanted to be called, Sam opened his mouth and replied. "Sam. Call me Sam."

Whirling and clicking once again, the mech nodded. "Preference noted."

And thus both of them entered into a period of awkward silence. Twiddling his thumbs, Sam sneaked glances at the mech occasionally while the mech just stared continuously at him. Frowning, Sam looked at himself, was there something weird on him that made the mech just stare at him so much? Ah well, after a while he'd stop staring ... Right?

(_line break_)

Epps looked around in distress.

Twenty two hours ago at 10:45 a.m, Sam was declared missing after a Decepticon attack at the automobile show he visited. All checks conducted at his usual haunts turned up clean, further supporting the declaration. The Autobots went into a state of uproar, and the N.E.S.T team went onto standby for a massive con hunt.

Twenty one hours and fifty three minutes ago, a Canary Yellow Camaro that was previously suspiciously missing suddenly speeded out of the medical bay and crashed directly through the walls of the base, leaving cement and steel in its wake while Ratchet could be heard roaring about how he better not have busted his coolant pipes again.

Nineteen hours ago, a report had came in from the automobile show stating that a Navy Blue Ferrari was not found amongst all the debris and other damaged cars. Matching reports of a similar car with pitch black windows and screens speeding out South West of the town were handed in.

Eighteen hours and fifty five minutes ago, the Autobots (including Ratchet much to the surprise of bots that had not yet underwent check up, not that they complained), baring the few that were either left to guard the base or too damaged from their fall to earth, all latched onto the piece of information and had driven off in a fury of screeches, determined to find said Ferrari and its captive.

One hour and twenty five minutes ago, the entire group had returned, without the familiar figure of the kid.

_No_

Now, all of the rescue operatives were gathered in the Autobot hanger in their vehicle modes. If needed, they could immediately rush out, saving the precious few seconds needed to transform. After all, a few seconds could change _everything_.

_Not if he's already dead. _His traitorous mind replied.

"Epps, any news?" Startled out of his thoughts, Epps turned to answer his Major. "No, sir."

Sighing helplessly, William Lennox combed his fingers through his dishevelled hair and returned to his pacing.

It was strangely nerve wracking, watching his major pace. The metronomic rhythm of him walking left and right, left and right, left and right, just like a clock... A cruel reminder of the time passing them by. A reminder that with every second that passed, the possibility of Sam never being found again was bigger and bigger, never reverting.

"Well, that's not helping." Epps muttered to himself softly. But for pits sake, what could he do to _help_?

It was times like this that they all felt so damn helpless, being unable to help someone they genuinely cared for. Never mind that the giant alien robots usually capable of solving all problems with a scan and flick of a gun weren't able to as well, as long as they (the humans) weren't capable to doing anything it didn't make any of them feel better. Still ... It didn't mean that they stopped trying to find the kid.

Glancing around the room, Epps could see a couple of operatives that the kid hung out with sometimes when he visited parking their aft's down on the cold hard floor, calling what contacts they had in other towns and asking if they've seen any Ferrari's driving by. Across them, the Autobot twins were moving back and forth through the hanger, helping the soldiers prepare in any ways they could, just in case a sudden rescue mission could be launched. Next to the wall, a duo of Autobots (Jolt and the remaining unit of Acree's bodies) were staring blankly at the wall, no doubt accessing the internet, attempting to scope out if there were any suspicious sightings anywhere. Somewhere in the building, a group of technology oriented operatives were going through camera feeds all over the state, trying to spot the allusive Ferrari. Meanwhile, Ratchet was going through the rest of the check up's with a speed bordering on insanity, determined to provide the bots with optimum condition in case they needed to stage an ambush. Even Ironhide was providing moral support! (If pointing a glowing cannon around could be counted as supportive)

All in all, everyone was trying to do a piece to help.

Why?

Because the kid had grown on them all.

Glaring at the ceiling, Epps swore that they would find him; 'cause really, what were friends for.

(_line break_)

Headlight flashed menacingly as an engine roared loudly.

Racing down the deserted road loudly at a speed no human would dare to drive, a Camaro swerved dangerously along a sharp curve, causing steam to rise from its steaming hot tiers. How long had it been driving since the spark wrenching news had been processed by his main systems? How long has it been since his charge (_SamSamSamSamSam_) had been taken away due to his negligence?

Medical checkups be slagged. When he heard that Sam was going out with his friend, _Bumblebee should have followed him_. He shouldn't have left for his medical appointment and leave his precious charge alone (_a part, a tiny part, of Bumblebee's processor laughed hysterically at the look on Ratchets face if he had really skipped the appointment_). Now, Sam was paying the price of _his _carelessness, captured in the hands of a Decepticon.

_He must be so afraid._

Twenty one hours fifty two minutes and ninety six milliseconds since his departure from the base. Nineteen hours fifty nine minutes and eighty seven milliseconds since he received information from the Autobots about the perpetrator's possible vehicle mode.

So much time had already passed. Was Sam even still ali-

_NO._ Processors halting the thought immediately, Bee skived a turn too sharply and scratched his side against the metal barricades, leaving behind destroyed bars and on him silver streaks of paint. Ignoring the sting and the warning signs for overheating popping up, he continued his race against time.

_Oh Primus_, _what_ _if Sam was already in the hands of Megatron?_

_NONONONONO_

Pausing his thought processors again, Bumblebee drove faster and faster. Earth vehicles were not meant to be abused so by Cybertronian abilities, too much stress would impact negatively on the mech's physical capabilities due to physical constrains. Now, Bumblebee was pushing on critical, but he didn't care.

No, he didn't. Because Sam was in danger.

Pictures and videos of Sam flashed themselves across his internal screens, as if commemorating the boy's life. Sam smiling. Sam laughing. Sam running around after Mojo. Sam with Mikeala. Sam talking to him, laughing out loud at a witty comment taken from the radio. Sam-

Bumblebee ripped them off. They were taking up valuable processing space in his systems. A little more space meant a little more speed in his mad dash against the unknown, and for Primus's sake he needed all the speed he could get. Even if he had to run his spark down he _would_ get to his charge and take him home safely and alive. Would be with him throughout his life and would laugh together at silly little things.

Would be by his side forever.

So help him, if Sam was even the lightest bit injured, Bumblebee would rip out the Fragger's chest and shove a cannon at his spark. And if he were dead ... (_a little voice at the back of his system cried out in agony when that thought passed through his processors)_

There would be nothing left when he was done with them.

Taillights flickering briefly, the Camaro, now a mere yellow blur, sped up again and raced off to find his charge. It needed no guidance. Because somehow, Bumblebee just knew where he was.

(_linebreak_)

It was impressive how long Sam managed to just stand there, silently waiting for the Ferrari bot to stop staring and just open his mouth to _speak_.

After a few dozen minutes though, his patience finally snapped. There was only so much he ogling he could take before he started to twitch, the second before was his line.

Opting to just open his mouth and continue where they left off, Sam started to speak. Then he immediately shut up because really, what was he supposed to say. All his social life had never prepared him for a confrontation with a giant alien robot that had seemingly popped up from no where, and Bumblebee didn't count because he was his car first before he started transforming and lunging on Decepticons. Really, what was he supposed to say?

Hello? Hi? I come in peace?

Wait, no. The last one didn't fit. It was for aliens, not for the organic species spawned on this planet.

"Creator, you pulse rate is increasing again."

Dazed, Sam noticed that -huh, he _was_ panicking. Thinking back about the whole stop-panicking-or-I'll-deal-with-you thing, completed with foreboding music and an imaginary evil glint, Sam gulped. Calm down Sam; don't let the scary bot have a reason to have a go at you.

Settling his arms into those yoga movements he always saw on television, Sam breathed in and out. It was doing really well, then Sam noticed something. Did the mech just call him 'Creator'?

Now that he thought about it, the bot _did _do nothing but call him that.

"Hi, big guy" Sam nervously asked "Why do you call me creator?"

The bot leaned back from his current position, optics flashing. "My apologies. My processors have not aligned themselves fully to your preferred alias of 'Sam'. However, now they have been re-calibrated and will refer to you as such."

"Oh no no no." Did the bot think that he was throwing a fit over his name? "I mean, like, why do you call me that? I sure as hell didn't create you."

The bot looked at him again, this time with a slight tinge of amusement to him.

"No, you didn't create me."

Oh, ok, that was ok then-

"You made me."

Stop. Bang. Backtrack. "_What_?" Sam shrieked.

Still using that no-nonsense voice, the bot replied Sam's shriek with an answer. "You made me Sam. You didn't create me, but you made me."

Now, was it him or did that _make absolutely no sense? _

"No, waitwaitwaitwaitwait." Sam was pretty there was someone laughing at him out there in the galaxy, probably Primus "_I _made you?"

Looking just like a proud mother whom had just seen her offspring take first place in some academic competition, and in this case seen a pathetic human finally managing to connect the first dot to the second in a huge of connect the dots, the bot nodded.

"_That doesn't even make sense!_"

If the mech had eyebrows it would have raised itself. "I disagree. It makes perfect sense." Settling himself down comfortably on the sand, the mech seemed aware that he was in for a very long discussion.

"No it doesn't!" Sam objected vehemently "I can't _make _you!"

"In case you haven't noticed Sam, you just did not one day ago."

Sam was aware that he would have made quite a mad sight as he started to wave his hands around like a windmill. But who could blame him anyway. It wasn't every day that a giant robot walked up to you and claimed that you made him. Never mind that it should be bloody well impossible.

"No, it's impossible. I couldn't have _made_ you."

The mech shuttered his optics. He could feel a migraine coming. He opened his processor system and dragged out a file that would hopefully clear up his creator's confusion.

"Sam." Distracting the human from his ravings the mech continued "Are you clear about the practices of human reproduction?"

Taking the humans blank stare as a no, the mech continued onwards. Loading a clip that he had found on the World Wide Web about the 'Birds and the Bees', he cranked the volume up. "_When a man loves a woman very very much ..._"

Oh god. An alien robot was trying to give him the sex talk. "_No! NO! STOP IT!" _Shrieking again, Sam stomped nearer to the bot. Face a flaming red, he glared up at the bot and shook his fist threateningly. "_Yo - You - You do that again and I'll make you regret it!_". Seemingly chastised, the bot nodded his head reverted to his silent self.

(Unknown to the human, the Ferrari was highly alarmed over the spike of his creator's heartbeat and body temperature. Considering that they just kept on rising, he decided that it would be more beneficial if he stayed silent for the moment.)

Breathing hard, Sam sat down on the sandy ground. Life didn't prepare him for this. Nothing did.

"_You_." He rasped out "_Explain this now."_

The mech chattered in concern. "Are you certain?"

"_What?" _

"Your pulse rate is still high, it would be more advisable if -"

The mech never did get a chance to finish his sentence because Sam decided to get close and personal. After the blinking glyphs in his head got him into a whole lot of trouble during his first college year, he quickly learned that getting answer up and front and not waiting for a period before he was answered by someone more menacing was a good idea. Stuff being polite, he wanted his answers _now_.

Grabbing the mech's face by some cables at his neck, Sam growled into his face. "_Tell. Me. Now_"

(_line break_)

He was once again surprised by his creator's actions.

Though special, his creator was still a human. An organic species that was fragile and short lived compared to the Cybertronian race. According to research, humans generally ran from extraterritorial beings. They did not walk up to them and grab their heads, screaming and demanding answers.

Were the ghost movies he observed wrong?

No matter.

His creators pulse rate was rising. Again. At this rate, the mech fully expected his charge to just drop over in a dead faint. Perhaps a squirt of sedatives was needed? But the internet had recommended that teenagers should be given a chance to express themselves. Was this how they expressed? Through a hike of hormones, heartbeats, and change in facial colouring?

How unnerving.

Regardless, the main culprit behind his wild behaviour was his unanswered question. Such behaviour was damaging, hence unacceptable. If an answer was what he needed to revert to optimal conditions then the mech would gladly provide them.

"Understood Sam. I shall answer your question to the best of my abilities and your comprehension."

Seemingly sceptical over the way he had posed his sentence and feeling vaguely insulted (he felt like he just got insulted somehow), Sam cocked his head and slowly let go of the mech's wiring.

_Good. His heartbeat is balancing._

"Sam" the mech started "The reason as to why I call you creator is because you are one of the two that created me."

Sam was starting to look like he had swallowed a large unwanted lemon. Ignoring him, the mech continued. "Similarly to human reproduction, Cybertronians also require two parties to spark a new mech - kindly cease your squabbling I promise it's not what you think it is - in this case, the Allspark and a vessel. To put it in understandable terms, the Allspark provides a spark to the vessel, hence making it the male parental unit; while a Cybertronian will usually provide an empty vessel suitable for the sparkling, hence making him or her the female parental unit.

Other method for sparklings to be sparked would be the union of a mech and femme. Though, considering that the war has not been kind to Cybertronians, it is considerably hard to find a femme these vorns.

In my case, my spark was sparked by someone else. And you, you made my vessel presumably by residual AllSpark energy from left in you from Egypt. Henceforth, you are my mother and creator."

The Ferrari bot watched as Sam's face started to alternate between a fascinating shade of puce and bright red. For some reason, instead of decreasing his pulse rate had skyjacked again. This was getting very alarming. Was there something he had missed out that had angered Sam?

Perhaps it was his improper use of terms. "Sam. If you are distressed over my mix of the words creator and maker, please inform me. I will immediately ratify the issue - Sam? SAM!"

Having taken enough shock for the day, Sam's eyes rolled into his skull and fainted.

(_linebreak_)

Optimus Prime looked on grimly at the N.E.S.T operatives working to find their fellow human friend, Sam. It had been more than twenty hours ago when Sam had been taken, and nearing a day they still had not managed to obtain any Intel on his whereabouts.

Grave thought plagued his mind as he pondered upon the whereabouts of his young friend. Having saved his life two times and proving himself to all Autobots as a worthy and honourable ally, Sam had became a treasured member of their -dare he say- family. Having lost majority of their forces throughout the eon's fighting Decepticon's, the Autobots (even though some of them just plain hated each others guts) had banded together and considered themselves as one big family. When one returned to the matrix, they all grieved; and if one was captured, they did everything they could to get them back.

The sound of metal door sliding open graced his sound systems and Optimus turned sent his sensors around him to check who was entering the hanger. His answer was obtained when a familiar spark signature and the familiar stature of Ratchet walked in.

"Optimus." Blaster called "It has been a long time."

Not wanting to offend his friend by not transforming, Optimus shifted upwards and stretched his limb. It was surprisingly tiring to be in vehicle form for a long period of time.

"Blaster" Optimus greeted back "I trust you are well?"

Blaster laughed, a large booming sound that echoed around the place. "Of course, I dare say that if I wasn't Ratchet would have my head."

The familiar dull thunk of a wrench against metal resounded across the hanger, and a couple of Autobots winced in sympathy at Blaster as the CMO glared at him. Huffing indignantly, Ratchet raised his arm threateningly again and Blaster chose the smart option of shifting subtly behind Prime.

Let it be known that Ratchet was a scary scary mech when any medical issues were concerned.

"So Optimus, I heard that you're looking out for a human?"

"Yes." Optimus wasn't surprised that the newly arrived mech had already heard of the current issue, the base was only that big "Nothing has been able to track the mech down and sensors have indicted nothing."

"A stealth system then?"

"Perhaps."

Stealth systems were notoriously hard to bypass. Usually engaged while in vehicle mode or during recharge in hostile territory, this system meant that any Cybertronian could pass under all the scanners they had and still pass up as a dead piece of metal. Considering that earth had a lot of metal driving around, it was an absolute nightmare. This meant that the only way they could notice the Con was if a speed camera caught him, or if anyone got curious about a Ferrari and posted about it. An added bonus would be if they saw it driving without a driver. Furthermore, there wasn't only one navy blue Ferrari in the country.

Optimus sighed heavily.

"Now don't act like that Optimus, why don't you try again then? You have pretty nifty sensor arrays. One of the biggest ranges."

Linking out, Optimus did so but had no luck. Despairing, he turned and stared at the roof. Ratchet clucked and hit Blaster again.

"OW! What did you do that for?"

Ratchet gave Blaster a dry look and fingered his wrench. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe Optimus would be better off if he didn't have his failure shoved in his face again?"

"Well. Now now Ratchet, you know I didn't mean it anything like that!"

"Of course not. Now, why don't you take over the observation of the sensor channels. I know you have a larger range than any of us." And most of the Cybertronians ever sparked.

"As if that would help if the Decepticon's wanted to hide." Blaster scoffed, but he did so anyway. Not one minute into it however, he stiffened.

Ratchet looked on in concern "Blaster?"

"Well now, this is strange." Blaster mumbled. There was something at the edge of his scanner range, somewhere many miles away from here. Signals came in on short and faint bursts, in fact Blaster was sure whoever that was emitting it was probably undergoing a panic attack from what the signal shaped up to be. It was unfamiliar though, nothing like any of the Decepticon signals he remembered. In fact, if he was correct ...

"We have a neut here."

Heads jerked up all around the hanger. "A neut?" Ironhide demanded "Aren't they all supposed to be off gallivanting somewhere far away from the Decepticons and us?"

"Not so Ironhide." Blaster replied, amused "Sometimes they crash land near us accidentally. I suppose we have to contact him then? You know, to prevent mass panic?"

Optimus sighed again. "Coordinates Blaster."

"Of course Optimus. It's -"

"Sir! Reports of a Navy Blue Ferrari racing down the coast 2476 miles North from here. Witnesses reported that it number plate matches exactly with the one gone from the show!"

"... Exactly what he said ..."

Engines roared around the hanger and several soldiers could be seen fingering their weapons. Epps and Will leaped into Ironhide's cabin, aware that if the Autobots got serious they would be left behind in the earth vehicles. They finally had news on the kid, and he was in the hands of a 'neut'. Though it wasn't a Decepticon, this wasn't much better.

Optimus narrowed his optics "Autobots, Rollout."

(_linebreak_)

Optics gleamed in the dark.

There.

There.

The boy was there.

Unprotected now. A Perfect chance.

"Decepticons. Move out."

(_line break)_

A couple were walking down the street enjoying the breeze, laughing together with joy. As the female raised her umbrella up, a hurricane of wind passed her by, ripping it out of her hands roughly. Shrieking in fear she latched onto her boyfriend.

These events passed by in a total of 3 seconds, but Bumblebee was already miles away. He was getting closer.

(_linebreak)_

Sam was pretty sure he was dreaming again.

It was the same place. The place with the towering buildings and breathtaking lights blinking in the sky. Laughter ringed around him once again, and the wind lapped at his body. It was so beautiful.

And it felt _so_ right.

_You shouldn't be here._

Turning around sleepily, Sam's mind took in a picture of white and sparks flickering around something. Someone.

_Why? _He asked_ It's home_

The figure drew back, amused.

_Yes_ It agreed _Home. But not today._

_Why not?_

_Because, someone is calling you._

_(linebreak)_

_"Sam? Sam! Sam, wake up!"_

A rather frantic voice echoed down into the darkness at him. It was a bit familiar, but for all of him he couldn't remember who it was. He had this nagging feeling that even if he remembered though, he wouldn't know his name anyway.

"_Sam!_"

And how rude was that? Really, his mother had taught him better than that. Basic courtesy was one of the things that she had literally drilled into his head.

"_Sam!"_

He really wanted to continue his dream though. It was so ... nice. But the figure in it _had _said that he couldn't go there yet, so maybe he better wake up?

Besides, whoever was it that was calling him sounded really scared.

"SAM_!"_

"Ok, Ok. I'm up." Mumbling under his breath, Sam tried to open his crusty eyes to look at the really loud person yelling into his sore ears. Would it kill him to yell a little softer?

The first thing he saw once everything cleared was a _really _close view of a blue and black face together with a pair of frantic gold optics. Huh, he didn't know that optics could be so expressive. Then suddenly, he was aware the stranger bot who was apparently his _kid _(Sam shuddered inside) was hovering over him like this giant canopy about to fall on him and it became his turn to shriek (He did that a lot recently).

The bot jerked backwards fast, wary of causing the human shock again. Systems whirling and armours shifting agitatedly, he crawled away from the human.

"... Sam?"

"Yeah." Sam gasped "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, just a shock."

Another silence prevailed over the two. The only disturbance in it were the occasional gasp from Sam and the concerned twittering of the mech. Behind them, the faint echoes of a roar could be heard, contrasting lovingly against the sound of the lapping waves and calling seagulls.

Sam looked at the mech, he seemed really concern. Maybe he really wasn't trying to hurt him after all (_He __**is**__ your child you know, a part of him whispered_). Remembering his manners, Sam gave the mech a timid smile and asked in clear voice "So, what's your name?"

The mech stared at him then looked out into the distance at the sun and the sky, seemingly lost of words.

"You have a name ... Right?" Maybe Sam needed to name him?

Gazing back softly at the human, the mech whispered softly into the air, his answer almost covered by the howl of the wind and the splash of the waves.

"My designation is KnightFire."

_KnightFire._

Sunlight flickered down upon the mech, dazzling Sam's sensitive eyes with sparkles that glittered off the his (_KnightFire's, Sam tried) _dark armour. A sense of intense Dejavu bugged him, telling him that there was something strangely _right _about the name, and that Sam should have known something the mech. But that was ridiculous. Completely unthinkable. He just met the mech, created the mech, whatever.

It was a weird feeling. Uncomfortable even. But this wasn't the time for pondering; Sam had even more important things to consider.

Distracting KnightFire by shifting subtly, Sam asked "So, are you ready to go back and meet the rest of the guys?". If the mech was really his kid (his mind still kinda refused that wrap around that), and young (what was Cybertronian childhood length again?), it'd probably be a good idea to get him to meet up with the rest of the crowd to learn the ropes. Besides, Bumblebee would have Spark attacks if he didn't get back soon.

If he wasn't having them already.

The mech turned around to face him, optics staring again as the sand under his feet sunk beneath his heavy weight. Sam wondered if he would get problems with rust later, after all metal and sea water together tended to have adverse effects. Should he prepare any paint for repainting and bring KnightFire in for a carwash? Bee seemed to enjoy car washes a lot so he'd probably enjoy too. Maybe his dad could lend him some of his wax. Or maybe Ratchet would want to look over him first, cause' Sam was pretty sure that KnightFire was one-of-a-kind.

"Unacceptable."

"Excuse me, _WHAT?"_ Shocked again, Sam took a few steps backwards. What did he mean by 'unacceptable'?

"Exactly as I have conveyed Sam." If anything, KnightFire was as aphetic as ever. "The Autobots do not possess enough capability of protecting you sufficiently. In fact - optics narrowed - factoring in what has happened to you, they seem to be putting you into more harm than good."

Waving his arms around agitatedly Sam stared at the mech in dawning horror "So wait. What? You mean your not _taking me back_?"

Still calm even though Sam was having another fit and subconsciously inching away from him, KnightFire flatly spat out a "Yes". Walking over to the panicky human, he leaned down and tried to scoop him up but was rebuffed by Sam whacking his claws away.

"_You can't do that!_"

Mentally despairing about the difficulty of his creator (or perhaps maker would be more accurate, his processors analyzed) and charge, KnightFire tried once more to calm and reason him down. It wouldn't do for Sam to remain with parties that put him in danger.

"I assure you Sam. I do this for your own good."

"_Don't tell me that!_" Sam roared loudly (_another roar ricocheted off the walls spanning behind them and joined Sam's in anger_), "_You can't take me away from my life!_"

"Sam. listen and process your situation carefully it's for the - "

Sentence never finishing, KnightFire stiffened. Scanners screeching loudly, warning signs popped out all over his internal systems. How could he not have noticed? _How could he have been so careless_? (_)_

Shifting quickly over his charge, KnightFire grabbed the human gently and clutched him close to his chest, ignoring his desperate protests. Sprinting over a section of rocks near the cliff, he left Sam there and tried to prod him into a safe position.

"Wait! What are you doing?"

"There's no time Sam." Threat approaching 567 meters 0.76654 yards and lowering. Whatever it was, it was approaching _fast_. Battle protocols activated. Weapons systems online. Mission objective: Protection of Samuel James Witwicky and destruction of threat. Current success possibility: 33%. Current location inappropriate for optimal combat procedures. Suggested measure: Area chang- Inappropriate action: Time frame insufficient.

Cursing under his breath, KnightFire switched on his prototype cannon. His preferred weapons system was unsuitable to be utilized in such an area. He should have considered manoeuvrability and convenience more instead of privacy when he stopped to cool his overheated systems down from the drive. Now, he hoped that Sam wouldn't pay the price for his carelessness.

_Unacceptable._

"KnightFire, What's going on?"

Cannon humming loudly, KnightFire faced his creator. "Something is coming Sam. Hide yourself, I shall attempt to settle this -" A loud roar interrupted him and he turned to face the intruder. Battle systems clanging chaotically he aimed at the only entrance to the area, a gap in the walls covered by several rocks, and fired. Smoke rised into the air, embracing the melted figures of the rocks. Shifting his sensors outwards, KnightFire attempted to locate the threat, only to step backwards in shock as a blur shot out of the smoke and collided with him with blazing heat. Crashing against the rocks Sam was hiding at of all places, he snarled softly, optics blurring due to the sudden impact. Swinging his arms away from his chest to batter away a punch sent to his face, KnightFire disarmed his cannon and switched to his blades. They were by far the safest within such a close distance to his charge.

Slashing at his assailant, KnightFire forced him to back off to avoid a slashed neck. Optics resetting, he took a look at his opponent and widened his optics in shock. "Impossible" He whispered. There was absolutely no way that any of them could have reached the area so fast.

Steam rised from around him, reflecting the light waves and forming a halo around him. Melted sand pooled around his feet, testifying to how hot the mech had to be. How he had rushed to get here.

Roaring in rage as he lunged at KnightFire, the world twisted in a kaleidoscope of colours just as Sam screamed out loud.

"_**BUMBLEBEE!"**_

And the world exploded into a cascade of fireworks.

* * *

><p>AN

Well now ... Hides from potential readers throwing fruits at Wind for leaving the chapter at a cliffy ...

Sniff ... Sniff ... DONT BE ANGWEEEEE

Flinging self down in an uberly dramatic fashion, Wind accidentally trods on Plot Bunnies tail.

Whoops. (Gets whacked by chocolate milk drinking bunny)

Dawn walks in with reality puppy and stares at twitching authoress.

Sigh.

Well now. As the story-plot-shaping-chapter part of Wind of the Dawn (aka part of brain that comes up with ideas on how to continue chapters), let me just say this...

HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS ~~

Thank you so much to those people that reviewed or added my fanfic to your favourite or alert list! Wind is very happy !

As per some request, Wind has changed her writing format to side, not centre. Sorry bout the first chappie.

If its no trouble please leave a review and offer some opinions ~~ We seek ways to improve!

And if the linebreaks annoy you, please tell me .

CYA!

Wind of the Dawn out.

Btw ... Fireworks ...


	3. Chapter 3 Life's Irony

Disclaimer: Transformers and any other characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me (except KnightFire). This story is not written or used in any commercial purposes.

Title: Enfolding Grasps

By: Wind of the Dawn

Chapter 3 Life's Irony

Mumble of the day: I really really need to be more careful with my spelling ... I also am buzzed on coffee, so if it's a little weird ...

_Thoughts_

:: Communications Link between Autobots ::

* * *

><p><em>Time was a cruel mistress.<em>

_A flap of her butterfly wings, a second or less, was enough to cause trillions and billions of events to happen. Enough to change the paths of many humans. In her eyes, every century was perhaps a short short time; after all, time was forever and nothing would stop her._

_Bumblebee hated time at the moment, wanted to stop her merciless flow. How long had it been since he had started on his journey to find Sam?_

_(Every second that passed was an enemy because it meant that the time they could have together was passing by mockingly.)_

_Human lifespan was about a vorn or so of Cybertronian time, perhaps more. People would probably think that it was a long time to live, but to Cybertronians (and to Bumblebee), it was a frightfully short time. Capable of just recharging and waking up a decade later if needed, a vorn was just like a blink of an optic. Do it, and you would miss an entire lifespan. Sam was now eighteen close to nineteen, still a teenager (an adult he would often tell Bee) and young on this world. And if Bumblebee's calculations were correct, that meant that he had only a miniscule amount of Cybertronian time left to exist._

_A few years ago, Bumblebee had once processed the thought of how he would proceed with his life once everything was over. After all, Bumblebee was still a youngling barely out of sparkling hood (a child), and there was still so much things he had never observed and tried before. Once the war was done, he wanted to fly free, to savour what he couldn't feel when he was involved the heated exchange of weapons and fists with the enemy. He once couldn't have waited for the war to end._

_But now, everything changed._

_It was funny how a meeting with such a tiny organic being (SamSamSamSamSam) had changed his entire existence. Some Cybertronians would perhaps claim that such a meeting was just an insignificant moment of Bumblebee's life, he still had millenniums to go after all, and would continue to meet different beings of all sorts. However, after meeting Sam everything else had paled in comparison._

_Sam had flipped his world upside down and Bumblebee wasn't afraid to admit so. There was just something so vibrant about him that attracted Bumblebee to him like a moth to a flame. Every moment spent with him was precious and would forever be etched on the walls of his memory banks. No matter what happened, Bumblebee would never ever forget Sam, and he would always yearn for the warmth of his laughter and the light of his soul, even after he was gone._

_Then again, would he still want to exist if Sam was gone?_

_He really didn't know the answer to that question._

_It didn't matter anyway, Bumblebee was determined to stay with Sam as he lived his life to the fullest. To laugh with him at life's simple pleasures, and bask in the warm sunlight of his presence. And so, he would cling tightly to time and race against her languish strides. He would break all restrains and roar his defiance against her plans._

_He would get to Sam, or die trying._

_**LineBreak**_

He was getting closer.

It was a strangely deserted area filled with towering cliffs and narrow paths that twist and turned like a snake, an absolute nightmare for any land born vehicle trying to travel through. Twisting sharply and shifting in his side mirrors, Bumblebee engaged his breaks twice, avoiding a crash into the harsh surface of his surrounding and stopping before he hit his front against the opposite wall instead. Turning slower than he would have preferred, he turned left and accelerated through the narrow gap between the walls. The sand beneath his tyres flew agitatedly around him and brushed against his sensors roughly, it was a very annoying terrain and a hard place to navigate quickly without risking severe damage.

It was also the perfect place to hide from prying eyes.

Engaging his overheated systems to shift gears, Bumblebee began a slow crawl up a sudden steep slope. It wouldn't do for him to just tumble over backwards head over heels, or in his current case front over bumpers, now that he was so close to Sam.

_Somehow, Bumblebee always knew where Sam was, be it another town or state. He always found him to chase his tormentors away._

He had considered shifting back to his original form to travel through the terrain, but doing so would disengage his stealth systems, leaving him open for any spying programs to spot. That was one situation he wanted to avoid as there was a good chance that whoever was waiting at the other end of the area had set up sensor to alert them of intruders, thus allowing them time to make a quick get away.

Thoughts of Sam's safety crashed through his mind in chains, distracting him as Bumblebee tried to go faster through the wicked maze that hindered him from reaching his charge. Unlike before, trying to shut said thoughts down had only served to make them flash across his processor much more urgently. Engulfing him like a tidal wave, doubts and questions of Sam's wellbeing badgered him like a bee to honey. Was he safe? Was he fine? _Was he still alive_?

Never mind his overheated systems, there was a good chance that Bumblebee would just crash from an overload of mental circuits.

Uttering a short growl again as he saw another start of windy paths, Bumblebee started to slowly shift his tyres again to enter the picky space. Once he retrieved his charge, screw navigating through the area again, he was just going to blow his way out.

:: Bumblebee ::

Startled silly as he tried to cross a ledge that was not unbefitting for a champion gymnast, Bumblebee twitched a centimetre too close to the edge and fell front first into the sand.

An awkward silence ensued.

:: Bumblebee? ::

Revving his engines into reverse and shifting all his weight to the back, Bumblebee tipped out of the sand a lot dirtier and snarled into his communications link. :: _What?_ ::

Apparently surprised by the tone of the young scout, a short silence invaded the lines, soon though a familiar deep voice started speaking again. :: Bumblebee, report. ::

Slightly horrified that he had just snarled at his esteemed leader, Bumblebee sunk back into the communications link while edging across the huge car shaped hole in the ground. :: Currently engaged in pursuit of Sam in a ravine, sir. ::

:: Location? ::

Checking his navigation systems, Bumblebee sent Optimus Prime a direct copy of his location. Waiting for a reply, he continued skidding his way through another set of winding archways, mindful to not let his doors get ripped out by a protruding rock or two. Even though Cybertronian metal was tougher than any organic substance, if something was sharp or hit it with enough force, it was still possible for the Transformers to get seriously damaged.

He wouldn't be that useful to Sam if he turned up to battle with half his limbs gone.

A shocked chirp drew Bumblebee's attention back to the link as he was trying to force himself through a narrow gap under the wall, whoever Sam's kidnapper was must have been pretty small otherwise it would have been impossible for them to squeeze through so many slagging holes near the fragging ground!

:: Sir? ::

:: Bumblebee, how did you find this area? ::

Unable to just tell his leader that he _felt _that Sam was in the area and had thus rushed here, Bumblebee muted his vocal chords and sheepishly sent an :: I don't know :: back. From the annoyance stuffed back through the line, no one had been appreciative of his answer.

:: Bumblebee ... :: A chiding tone.

Dodging a protruding slab of rock Bumblebee replied vaguely :: Sir, with all due respect, I don't know. All I can inform you is just that I've always been able to locate Sam no matter where he is. :: Not to mention the occasional 'sixth sense' as to whether or not Sam was in danger or in distress.

(Bumblebee cursed the fact that of all times his 'sixth sense' had not been active, it had been the morning before.)

A sudden thought crossed his systems as he was once again squeezing through another tight fit that had succeeded to scrape his entire ceiling paint off, he knew that he had always been capable of finding Sam, but was his trip to the area this time correct?

:: Sir, am I correct in stating that this is Sam's general location? ::

A certain reply came back :: Affirmative, Bumblebee ::

Letting a cycle of soft relieved clicks come through, Bee sunk on his tyres for a brief moment.

_Thank Primus._

:: Bumblebee, we are on our way to your general location, try to resist from confronting the unknown before we arrive unless provoked. Whoever it is is a - :: Before Optimus could finish, a shrill shriek had echoed through the area.

Bumblebee felt his systems lock down.

Lights growing dimmer as his processors whirled in horror, Bumblebee's audio systems focused upon the familiar voice, replaying it repeatedly in his systems. It was Sam. It was Sam. It was Sam. _ItwasSamItwasSamItwasSam._

_He was screaming_.

Systems once more on overdrive, Bumblebee rushed out into the treacherous paths of the ravine. Crashing into the jagged walls as he swerved dangerous, his engines uttered a furious roar, echoing it throughout the ravine. :: Bumblebee. Respond! :: Ignoring the urgent orders of his Prime, he continued to crash into the walls as he veered into the unknown.

:: _Bumblebee! _::

Shutting his communications link down, Bumblebee continued to drive swiftly to the location of his fragile organic ward. Cursing as he came yet again to another junction, he ploughed through the coarse rocks, taking no heed of the sand-paper like structure that scratched deep into his sides, tearing his nerves with pain.

He was screaming. _Why was he screaming?_

Millions of probable scenarios and conclusions flashed through his processor, informing him of the possible situation his charge could be in. Hurt. Torture. Pain. Fear. Thousands of words and syllabuses ran rampant over his systems as they tried vainly to paint of a portrait of Sam and his current situation. Icy dread swallowed Bumblebee's spark, was he too late?

_NoNoNoNoNo_

Sam was his charge. His friend. A companion that he could never replace and wanted to be with for eternity. He was the first being he had ever met that had treated him with kindness in this entire planet, and he was the one that had insisted and raged to save him when he was captured by Sector 7.

_Pixel images of tousled brown hand and sparkling brown eyes. A bright laugh that rung out through the air like bells. Warm hands that mopped down his hood with soft fabric and smooth wax._

He was a boy that was considered by all to be special, not for his constant bout of heroics but for his unwavering courage and determination to face down the odds for his friends. He was a member of the Autobots whether he knew it or not (_Family, Optimus had once mentioned_), and was likewise a valued member of N.E.S.T. He was the one that Optimus had died trying to protect, and the one that had died in return to revive him (_Bumblebee had wailed into the sky that day, silent and unheard, the moment he had seen Sam's unmoving body lying on the gritty ground_). And most of all, Sam was his _sun_.

(_Bumblebee didn't want to return to the darkness of war that he had been sparked in; He wanted to remain under the soft caress of the sun and its warm embrace_)

He would not fail him again, and Primus forbid anyone try to take him away_._

"_You can't do that!_" Constant echoes of Sam's frantic voice pierced through Bumblebee's audio systems. Pushing himself harder (_Warning: Systems 8-12 damaged. Imminent shut down for auto-repair possible_), he rushed the last few hundred metres to his charge.

_They would pay for taking him away._

"_Don't tell me that!_" Continuous screams. Bumblebee didn't know whether he should have been relieved that Sam was still alive or angry that he was in distress. Perhaps both. It was the last bit that decided his answer for him though.

"_You can't take me away from my life!_"

Systems blazing in a blinding light, Bumblebee roared furiously. _They were trying to take him away! _Shifting into his Cybertronian frame, Bumblebee sprinted the last few metres and leaped into the opening just as a sharp ball of blue impacted against the wall in front of him. Bracing himself for impact, he preserved against the blistering hit of the cannon and leaped out of the ensuring smoke into the fray, trusting his sensors his sensors to guide him to his target. _Terminate, his processors whispered sweetly._

Armour plates clanging loudly as he clashed against a slightly smaller frame, Bumblebee focused his previously blinded optics and took in the faceplate of Sam's captor. Twisting his arm inwards to deliver a punishing blow to the enemy, he was slightly surprised when the smaller mech managed to re-calibrate his systems fast enough to divert it.

No matter, he would simply try again.

Just as he was about to do so though, the mech had flicked a pair of blades out of his wrist. Moving back to avoid slashed cables, Bumblebee briskly catalogued his opponents design. Slender and sleek, smaller than Bumblebee, obviously a design more for stealth and manoeuvrability, or perhaps ambushing. Wheels at the back of the legs and lack of weapons mounted on the body, which meant it was built for _speed_. Not a seeker, hence lesser chance of a warper. All in all, it was a rather unusual design with the war going on. What really caught his attention though were the optics.

Gold? Bumblebee had never seen gold optics before. Decepticons had red, Neutrals Green, and the Autobots Blue. Never in all the millenniums that he had been sparked that he had ever seen such a colour as optics. Was there a new fraction out there that they did not know of?

"Impossible." The mech was talking now, staring at Bumblebee with a baffled expression. Funny that he had said that first instead of all the other possible threats or ransoms he could have demanded for Sam's return, after all he had had to have a reason for taking Sam... Sam? _Where was Sam?_

Looking around the area wildly as his feet slowly sank into melting sand Bumblebee panicked. There was no sight of his charge anywhere and his fragging sensor systems had just decided to off themselves.

_Warning. Coolant pipes 87% damaged. Automatic shut down imminent unless fixed._

Roaring once more in anger as steam rose from his overheated chassis, Bumblebee threw himself once more against the stunned mech. _Where was his charge?_

It was just at that moment that a small figure ran into sight and threw itself between the forthcoming collision of the two mechs, all the while calling out his designation in a very familiar voice.

"_**Bumblebee!**_"

_**LineBreak**_

Irony was a bitch.

Crouching down behind the rock Knightfire had placed him, Sam watched as his alleged ... son (he still hadn't managed to wrap his mind around the entire fact, and probably wouldn't for a very long time) was tackled onto his hiding place (Gah! Falling rocks. Avoid!) and straddled by an extremely familiar yellow figure.

Heart leaping with joy and relief that rapidly turned into dismay, Sam opened and closed his mouth as he watched both Knightfire and Bumblebee attempt to destroy each other. A punch sent at Knightfire's face had him twitch in trepidation, and the resulting slash at Bumblebee's neck had him tensing further in fear.

An hour ago, Sam would have been happy beyond all reasonable doubt to see his protective yellow guardian coming to his rescue. Heck, he would have been happy to see anyone but the Decepticons here to liberate him. Unfortunately, after Knightfire's little Darth Vader like statement that proclaimed Sam as one of his creators (Sam refused to place the word mother in there, his masculinity was already severely diminished after several hysterical shrieks), he wasn't keen on seeing him carted off to the scrap yard anymore, even if he still wasn't completely sure of the truth.

Sure, he had held the AllSpark in his hands as it approached its demise and had touched a splinter of it just a few months ago, causing his cranium to overload with a bundle of persistent alien squiggles. It was just hard to really believe that though that were events with significant impact, Sam really had alien radiation left within him just from touching the cube (or what was left of it) for brief moments. There was also the fact that Ratchet had full on assaulted him after his less than pleasant events in Egypt, peppering him persistently with a multitude of scans and tests. Aside from the various bruising and broken bones caused by Megatron's little love tap, and the fact that he actually _died _for about 3 minutes of his life (something that he was sure the Autobots and his parents would _never_ let go of), he was fine, no funny radiation, weird side effects, or little robots constantly being spawned at his side.

So the questioned that begged to be asked was why did the AllSpark energy decide to suddenly manifest now?

This was a question that Sam was determined to get to the bottom of later. At the present, he had to stop two large metal robots from mauling each other.

Taking the chance to climb down from the pile of rocks he was deposited at while Knightfire and Bumblebee were engaged in a Mexican Standoff, Sam ran desperately in their general direction. Breathing hard from his sprint across the grainy sand and the adrenaline that flushed through his veins, Sam threw himself into the middle of both mech's screaming his guardian's name and hoping that they would calm down and listen, just as Bumblebee decided to lunge at Knightfire.

Whoops.

_Well, this sucks_, Sam thought idly mere seconds before the collision that was sure to sign his death certificate happened. He knew that his impulsive actions would bite him in the ass one day, but who knew that it would be in this manner? He could just see it now, at his funeral people would be commenting on how he died. "_That Witwicky boy, he survived two alien battles valiantly, only to die squashed between the chest plates of two of allies just as they were about to bump each other. How devastatingly tragic."_

How embarrassing more likely.

For all the good it could do him, Sam prepared himself for the incoming smash. He took in Bumblebee's increasing horrified optics regretfully and sent a silent goodbye to his friends and family. Hoping that his messy death would be quick since from the looks of Bee's current velocity he wasn't about to stop anytime soon, and he was quite sure that he wouldn't be able to move away in the nick of time, Sam closed his eyes resignedly. Fortunately yet unfortunately for him, the only forgotten person on his last wishes was highly against watching his creator being turned into sandwich filling on him. Scooping up the fragile human, Knightfire swiftly flung him into the air and dropped him into the ocean astroseconds before Bumblebee crashed against him with a shower of sparks and the ugly sound of rubbing metal.

The world exploded into a kaleidoscope of colours as Sam tried to balance himself in his unplanned trip into the air. Hearing faint screeches from the ground, he tried to hold in his resulting nausea from his sudden air launch. Flailing around, he attempted to gain a passing glance at the ground, only to belly flop into the water a few milliseconds later with a loud splash.

Although Sam had never had a previous of being squashed before, he probably would have preferred it more. This was even worse than the time he had fallen a few stories high into Optimus's very hard metal hands. It hurt like _mad_.

Arching sluggishly in the salty water, Sam opened his eyes and squinted them shut again at the sting of the salt. Caressing his ribs lightly, he let out a breath of precious air when he brushed against a sore spot consisting of a few broken ribs. Unable to fight against the fierce currents of the sea, he was slowly dragged further and further away from the light above him into the depths of the ocean.

It was terrifying.

_Help..._

Trickles of air flittered past Sam's lips like the wings of a butterfly. Mind slowly becoming fuzzy from the lack of air and dull pain from his ribs, he let his body float listlessly in the oppressive embrace of his surrounding. Deeper. Deeper. The light started to dim and Sam was now sure that instead of dying in the middle of explosions and heat, he would drown alone and coldly instead. He really didn't know whether this was better or not.

_Help..._

Lungs burning, Sam blanked out, certain that he would die.

_O child, as much as I'd love to see you again it certainly isn't your time yet. You've already tried to come here so many times today and it's getting alarming._

Jolted awake by the intrusive voice, Sam blearily reached out to touch whoever was conversing with him. Not reaching anyone after a few tries, he desisted his attempts and sunk deeper into the thick waters of unconsciousness.

The voice sighed, _perhaps I should aid you._

A quick burst of something suddenly happened. Nearly comatose now, Sam didn't notice the sudden appearance of two pairs of metallic hands that penetrated the choppy surfaces of the sea. Moving around carefully, the hands urgently tried to cup around his frail body; always missing him by inches.

_**Incompetent**_.

Harsher than the other voice, another presence brushed forcefully against Sam's mind. Reeling in agony even in his near unconscious state, Sam let out air that he didn't have, sinking his heavy body closer to the sandy bottom of the sea. Any further and he would literally be sleeping with the fishes. It was so painful.

_Hold on child, they are coming._

_Who? _Sam wanted to ask _Who?_

Unable to take it any longer, he finally dropped into unconsciousness.

_**LineBreak**_

Knightfire leaped to his feet the instant he saw his creator smack against the ocean surface. Tossing Bumblebee off him with surprising strength, he took off into the ocean, processor screaming in denial as he tried to search for Sam.

Wading his hands through the water carefully while he scanned for his charge's presence, Knightfire cautiously turned to look at his attacker. Apparently, the safety of Sam was of more importance to him as the yellow mech had completely forgotten about him and was threading his hands through the water as well.

Focusing his scanner on the general area of Sam descend, Knightfire repeatedly tried glance through the icy blue water. From prior knowledge, he knew that damage was inescapable if a human impacted upon water hard enough; however considering their previous situation he had accepted the damage as a better choice in comparison to the other of certain death. Hence, he had tossed Sam further out into the distance as he was afraid of him being hurt if he impacted hard through the ocean surface onto the sandy grounds. Now, he was having the problem of not being to locate his small ward.

Frag.

"Have you found Sam yet?" An echoed cry from an unexpected voice distracted Knightfire from his search. Not even bothering to acknowledge the question, he continued on with his searching. Taking the silence as a no, Bumblebee returned to his own search with vigour.

As time passed, both mech become wrought with worry. Humans were only capable of staying a few minutes underwater before they ran out of breath and damage started to affect their mind. Considering that Sam had impacted upon the water with a loud splash and the soft sound of cracking of the bones, they were assuming that he was unconscious and unlikely to swim to the surface anytime soon. Sam was already under for one minute and seventy eight milliseconds, with the current of the sea working against them, how long would they have left before they lost him?

_Time laughed, a tinkling sound of maliciousness._

_Unacceptable_. Anxiety coursing through his veins Knightfire despaired. _Unacceptable_

Just as all hope seemed to be lost, a small spark of light flashed bright a small distance away. Not the only to see it, Bumblebee and Knightfire both rushed over to the area, careful not to step on anything along the way. Sure that it was somehow Sam that had signalled to them, both cooperatively sunk their hands into the chilly water and grasped around trying to find their precious ward. A few times they were sure that their sensor nerves had indicated that they were close to grasping something, but they always missed that something by a few centimetres. Frustrated, both started to panic.

_**Incompetent**_

A harsh grating sound invaded Knightfire's processor, sending the mech to his knee in pain. Systems jerked out of his control, Knightfire watched as his hands moved with their own mind, cupping around a small spot somewhere under the water. Feelings of disappointment, anger, and fear rushing through his systems from an unknown source (_No, there was something in Knightfire that knew this source at the corner of his processor, and he was horrified at disappointing it_), he lifted his hands up carefully, revealing the limp form of his charge in them.

_**Revive him**_

Heeding the order of the voices in his processor, Knightfire stood up and carried his wet charge onto the beach. Placing Sam down gently, he calculated the possibility of his charge having irreversible damage and drew out his pre-loaded files on human drowning. Scanning through them, he drew out the instructions on Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation and hesitated. How was a mech three times bigger than the human supposed to perform the CPR upon him?

Just as he was about to just do it somehow anyway (time was running out and giant robots or not someone had to make Sam _breathe_), blunt fingers tapped on his shoulder plates. Swirling around in shock (_how could he have forgotten about the other one?_), Knightfire engaged his blades again, prepared to deal a lethal blow to the enemy if needed.

_**Stand down Knightfire. Load files 1678-1692. **_

Obeying the instruction, Knightfire lowered his weapons in the face of his assailant. Watching as the yellow one hesitated in front of him while repeatedly glancing at his silent charge (he was sure that he was still aggressive), he loaded the files and processed them in a few milliseconds. How ironic, this was Bumblebee, designated guardian of his creator and also part of the reason why Sam was now lying down unmoving on the rough ground, an unnerving repetition of his death in Egypt. Considering his current mission of protecting Sam and the real reason why he was sparked back in Cybertron, it wasn't surprising that Bumblebee was here now, watching as Sam slowly slid away from their grasps into the darkness. In fact, if he hadn't turned up roaring for his charge, Knightfire would have been very disappointed. He had, after all, expected the protective yellow scout to turn up sometime for his charge. What he did not expect was how _fast_ he had turned up.

Audio systems warbling, Knightfire sent a cease fire note to the scout. Moving aside and letting the fretting mech access his charge, he cleared his sound box and asked a very important question. "Do you have a solid hologram system?"

Poking his charge restlessly, Bumblebee replied with a loud "_What_?". The expression on his face clearly told Knightfire how indignant the scout was at being asked such a ridiculous question at this time.

"Before you start displaying unacceptable behaviours again, process what I say. There is no time to send Sam to a medical facility in his current situation and we must resuscitate him immediately. A fifteen foot Cybertronian is not an advisable choice to resuscitate a human almost three times smaller than him. I do not possess a solid hologram system capable of forming a human shaped being but scouts usually do, hence making them more successful in CPR if needed. Now, do you have a solid hologram system?"

Reason effectively conveyed, Bumblebee's optics lit up in hope and understanding. Switching his holographic systems on, a young organic male formed into existence and crouched down besides Sam. Cradling his head gently and placing it into the standard position for CPR after clearing the airway of residual water, Bumblebee started to perform the cardiac compressions and mouth to mouth resuscitation needed to save Sam.

Watching calmly from the side (they were more likely to not get things done if they started to panic), Knightfire recorded the entire incident. As improper as it was, he had a feeling that his charge was going to demand a close analysis of what happened once he woke up and orientated himself. Instead of giving what most likely would be hours worth of explaining, Knightfire would just show him the recording when he asked. He was quite sure that Sam would prefer a more detailed accounting of the incident anyway.

(_Days later, Knightfire would sorely regret his decision._)

Hearing a feeble cough from below, he refocused his attention on his charge. The slight elevations of his chest showed that Samuel Witwicky was indeed back in the land of the living. Slightly relieved from the fact that Sam was no longer in danger of just drifting away, Knightfire glanced at Bumblebee. Face stuck in an unattractive frown, the human hologram glared grumpily at the boy's chest.

Apparently, sometime during the entire process he had discovered the broken ribs.

Sighing softly, the mech lowered itself down and without waiting for permission flashed a scan on the young boy. Grimacing at the results he had obtained he passed them on to his temporary ally through the comm links. A dismay groan sounded from the tinier being beside him, letting Knightfire know that he had no doubt opened the file.

At the rate of things, no one was about to be going anywhere anytime soon.

_**LineBreak**_

Brushing Sam's hair gently away from his face, Bumblebee emitted a soft expression that quickly turned into wariness when he saw that the unknown mech was still looking his charge intently. Shifting cautiously to shield his charge from the mech, Bumblebee flinched lightly when he received a familiar brush against his communications link. Someone was trying to send him something.

Receiving the file with an empty gaze, he scanned it with his anti-virus systems and opened it carefully. When he saw that it was a scan pertaining to Sam, he clicked it open and groaned as he saw the injuries his charge had.

Broken ribs, strained muscles, and dislocated bones? Ratchet was going to kill him when he got to Sam. It hadn't been even a year after the entire Egypt thing yet and Sam was already re-breaking his fragile bones that had just healed under the medic's stern instructions and hawk-like watch. At this rate, he was never going to be free of Ratchet's grasp and flying wrenches.

Shuddering under the watchful eyes of the blue mech (O god, Judy Witwicky, how could he forget her and her bat), Bumblebee hesitantly picked his charge up from the water soaked ground and attempted to put him on the warmer leather seat of his transformed alternate mode. Attempted, being the key word.

A clawed hand came down between he and his target, making Bee stop in his tracks or risk a face on collision with the metallic surface. Swinging his charge around behind him, he glared with hostility at the previously quiet mech. Even though his processors were busy running his currently organic hologram at the moment, they could easily jump back into his original form and defend him and Sam if needed. The mech did not seem hostile though, as as soon as Bumblebee glared at him he raised his hands imploringly.

"Bumblebee" How did he know his designation? "It would be more advisable for Sam to reside in my alternate form."

Before Bumblebee could reply something along the lines of over my dead frame, the mech raised his hand for silence again. Feeling awfully like a petulant child as he reluctantly quiet down again, the mech continued his explanation. "My designation is Knightfire and I have many things to discuss with you that are better not mentioned here. Currently, I propose that Sam rests in my alternate form as from the looks of your armour - he gave a sceptical look at Bumblebee's still steaming form- it would be safer and more beneficial for the child."

Running his body through an automatic check up, Bumblebee cursed in colourful Cybertronian. The mech, Knightfire, was right. His systems were an absolute wreck from rushing to Sam and getting into a fight with the other mech. Among other problems, his coolant pipes were nearly destroyed (He could already hear Ratchet screaming), tyres were burnt out, and his armour was jingling on his frame, leaving no doubt that if he decided to blitz anywhere again it would be saying goodbye to him. Luckily, his weapons systems, transformation clogs, and stealth programs were still (barely) functioning. However, if he wanted carried a human inside of him back to another state, he was fairly certain that either his systems would crash first from the extra burden of configuring his insides to provide for the human, or the human would meet some unfortunate accident from his malfunctioning frame. What joy.

Concluding that there was indeed no better choice unless Primus decided to smile on him and drop a couple of Autobots on his head, Bumblebee reluctantly agreed to the logic. That didn't mean that he was going to hand Sam over though. Seeing as the other mech had already kidnapped him once and was in the process of taking Sam away from his life when he turned up with smoking tyres, Bumblebee wasn't about to just hand Sam over.

'What makes you think I'm just going to hand him over if you're so keen on taking him away?" _From me_ were the unsaid words.

Knowing that a reply on how Bumblebee wasn't in any state to protect his charge was a highly un-suggested idea, Knightfire kept quiet and tilted his head. True, he had wanted to take Sam away from the dangerous life he had been living, but from his current observations and lack of proper equipment to care for his charge, he had long deduced that keeping his charge in the hands of a competent medic was by far the better option.

For now.

Leaning down to look at the hologram, Knightfire replied carefully "If it is any assurance to you, I am currently far more concerned about his health than taking him away. And so, I will not be taking him anywhere else anytime soon."

_Liar_, Bumblebee wanted to say, _Liar_. But from the look of genuine concern in the mech's golden optics, he found himself relaxing reluctantly and trusting the mech slightly. Gesturing at the other mech to transform, he carried Sam over to the Navy Blue Ferrari and placed him on the back seat of the car. Feeling the cold touch of Sam's skin in contrast with his blazing heat, Bumblebee buckled him down safely with the seatbelt provided and gave him a mournful look. He had failed to protect him.

Cancelling his solid hologram and returning to his main frame (It suddenly occurred to him that he had never shown Sam his human hologram before), Bumblebee gave the Ferrari a warning glance.

_Try anything funny and I will hunt you down._

Flashing his headlights in affirmation to his silent warning, Knightfire switched on his engines and prowled across the sand to the entrance of the area. Turning carefully into the pathway with grace, he proceeded to drive along to a moderate sized hole hidden behind another slab of rocks.

:: What? :: Bumblebee sent with confusion across the comm link he established with the other mech. That was not the way he had came from.

:: You didn't check the map before you came here did you. :: An amused reply :: The humans have built a separate path that can lead them to the beach separately from the areas original entrance. You seriously couldn't have thought that I'd actually drive across that horrible hole filled path to get here did you? ::

Embarrassed and annoyed of the sand filled trip he had to suffer, Bumblebee declined to answer. Signalling the other to let him cut in front, he drove into the tunnel first and told the mech to follow him to Ratchet.

Sand dribbled out of his bumper the entire way through.

_**LineBreak**_

Optimus Prime drove down the road to Sam and Bumblebee's general location stoically as he ignored the vicious swearing echoing around his comm links. Steering wheel slightly twitching as he heard Ratchet utter a particularly nasty threat, he resigned himself to being a punching bag after seeing that the other Autobots and humans were suspicious silent in face of Ratchet's rage.

Opening his side of the comm link, he sent a slightly wary link to Ratchet.

:: ... and when I see him I'll reformat him into a fragging alarm clock. _What part of don't destroy your coolant pipes didn't he understand _! ::

Voice getting higher and higher, Optimus listened as his Chief Medical operator continued his tirade against Bumblebee's inability to listen to orders and his lack of 'Fragging good sense'. When Ratchet had forcefully obtained the scouts location from him after he had commed Bumblebee, he had blown a jack. A distance over 6000 miles travelled in less than one day in earth vehicular mode was something that was explicitly forbidden by their resident medic under threats of death and embarrassing configurements. Almost seeming like he was waving a wrench around in anger even though it wasn't possible in alternate mode, the rest of the crew had evacuated and left a large gapping space around the medic. It just wasn't safe to be around him when he was in one of his famous tantrums.

:: Ratchet :: Was that a buzzsaw he heard through the link? :: Calm down ::

Bracing himself for the tirade that was sure to come, Optimus was not disappointed.

:: Calm down? _Calm Down? How the frag should I calm down when Bumblebee's running out there with failures of a system! _::

Subtly tuning the volume down while thanking Primus for that particular program, Optimus commed back to Ratchet while his troops gazed at him in reverence for daring to contact the homicidal medic. :: Ratchet, we have not received any communication from Bumblebee yet to indicate any system failures ::

:: You are not a medic. _I _am the medic. _I _have more knowledge on Cybertronian systems and when _I_ say that Bumblebee's systems have partially crashed after a suicide run _I am correct slaggit_ ::

Unsure how he should answer to avoid the green hummer from chasing him down, Optimus cringed. Why was his medic sometimes far more intimidating than Megatron himself?

:: Sir? :: _Saved by the bell._

Instantly connecting Bumblebee's comm link to the others, Optimus replied his young scout with trepidation. :: Bumblebee, status ::

:: Engaged with the unknown mech sir. Due to unforeseen circumstances, Sam and the unknown mech, Knightfire, are both accompanying me back to base ::

Relieved sighs echoed around the area and several tense wheels sunk down lower, revealing their previous state of emotion. Optimus gazed amusedly over his comrades, how Sam had grown on them to provoke such a reaction from the previously stoic group. While they were basking in their relief though, Optimus as well as a few more hardcore veterans had noticed Bumblebee's soft admittance of the unknown accompanying him back.

:: Is the mech, Knighfire, a Neutral Bumblebee? ::

:: Unknown sir. No visible signs of affiliations have been shown to me :: A short pause ensued, as if Bumblebee was uncertain if he should inform Optimus of what he knew :: Sir, the mech has gold optics ::

An intense sense of confusion hit Optimus. Gold optics? There hasn't been anyone with gold optics on Cybertron before. In fact, Optimus could confidently claim that of all the time that he had been sparked, there had never been a mech with optics other than blue, red, or green on their planet. Was this mech from another fraction that had been formed after the war for the AllSpark started?

:: Has the mech informed you on his motive for abducting Sam? ::

:: No sir, he has stated that he would like to discuss many things with us when we meet though. And ... when I first arrived I overheard Sam claiming that he could not take him away from his life :: Replaying a voice file that Bumblebee sent to him, the Autobot cohort and their fellow human companions that sat in them (no one dared reside in Ratchet in fear of medical tools suddenly flying) frowned darkly as they heard the young boy's hysterical statement. They would have a serious talk with this Knightfire mech when he showed up.

_No one messes with our family._

Concerned, Optimus connected back to Bumblebee and enquired on both his and Sam's wellbeing. Considering that Bumblebee would not have taken any threats to his charge lightly, he must have directly charged into battle with the mech. :: How are you and Sam, Bumblebee. Have both of you obtained nay damage? ::

A shifty silence ensued. Behind Optimus, he could hear the foreboding sound of whirling starting.

:: Bumblebee, respond ::

:: Sir, I ... :: Using a familiar speech pattern that Bumblebee had stopped using eons ago after he stopped raiding the Energon goodie jars, he quickly muttered out a long sentence then retreated and cowered at the other end of the line.

::... I'm sorry!::

Many a cars braked violently after they heard Bumblebee's little emission of his cooling pipes being slagged, tyres being burnt, armour overheated, sensors being shot, and Sam having a large variety of problems involving drowning, being flung into the sea, having broken ribs, and possible cracked bones. Though the sentence was little more than gibberish to the human soldiers, the Autobots had heard him loud and clear. Oh, how they had heard him loud and clear.

Spinning around on the deserted road as he watched the chaos unfold, Optimus watched as Jolt crashed into a tree as he tried to avoid Ratchet's suddenly larger privacy bubble. Inching backwards in case the medic decided to reduce him to scrap heap for not hindering Bumblebee, he crouched low as he observed Ratchet explode into a flaming rage and wave his wrenches and Buzzsaw around, all the while screaming various names loudly.

Somewhere several miles away, an unconscious teenage boy and an alien mechanical robot shivered together in union.

* * *

><p>AN

And ... That's the third chapter.

Please forgive me if this chapter is slightly weird. I was a bit distracted on my first cup of coffee after 5 years. The buzz I tell you ... The buzz

Well... Thank you to all that reviewed or placed me on your alert and fav list~

Wind and Dawn are very happy!

Some people have asked me about pairings and I have to say that I actually don't know if I'm going to include some or not. Do you readers actually want pairings in this story?

For those who want to add this to your alert or fav list, could you please just leave a small review?

Wind of the Dawn lives on reviews. She would appreciate it very much if readers could leave reviews after reading!

Thank you very much!

Wind of the Dawn out.


	4. Chapter 4 Travelling Together

Disclaimer: Transformers and any other characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me (except KnightFire). This story is not written or used in any commercial purposes.

Title: Enfolding Grasps

By: Wind of the Dawn

Chapter 4 Travelling Together

Pairings: I extremely don't know! Currently all are stuck on mother hen/epic friend's mode though!

Warnings: If you get hurt, don't wait, see a doctor.

Little roar of hyperness: I'm running high on chocolate and assignments!

:: Cybertronian communications link ::

_Thoughts_

* * *

><p>6000 miles travelled within a span of 24 hours was a very hefty feat. Anytime less than that was considered to be a suicide run for a car. Hence, almost one day after one Samuel Witwicky's disappearance by the hands of a newly introduced mech, Bumblebee was valiantly suffering the consequences of his mad dash with a variety of twitches and alarming groans.<p>

Sure, he was actually made out of Cybertronian organic materials, and thus sturdier than most of the materials on earth; If, by chance, an elephant decided to ram him over and trample over him before going off on its merry way, Bumblebee would only come out with a few dents on his roof and perhaps his pride a little damaged. That however, did not excuse him from the various overheating and overused gear problems that came with blitzing a long distance in one go, regardless of what form or material he had decided to go frolicking around in.

Groaning internally once more and ignoring his emergency shut down suggestions again, the yellow Camaro inched slowly behind the blue Ferrari that had overtaken him sometime during their trip back to the N.E.S.T base. Shaking slightly on his dodgy tyres, he once more pinged for a current medical scan of his charge. The car in front of him deflated on its tyres for a moment, conveying deep seated annoyance to the outside world, then sent back a ping with an attached file on the vitals of his friend's, Sam's, status.

:: Desist from contacting me every five minutes ::

Ignoring the mech, Bumblebee processed the file and frowned, Sam's body temperature had begun altering again. Tailing the Ferrari a little bit closer and violating its personal space, he tried to personally access the status of his charge. A glance could convey so many things and if Bee could see Sam for himself, he could probably deduce what was causing his charge such physical ailments.

:: Bumblebee, desist ::

Looking into the smaller cabin, Bumblebee was hit with annoyance when he noticed that he couldn't see anything past the darkened screens. Huffing, he tried to use his scanners on the other vehicle, only to pause in confusion when they didn't work. Checking them, he found that they were absolutely shot and wondered when on earth did they decide to offline themselves. He couldn't remember when for some reason.

:: Bumblebee, you are driving too close to my bumper. _Desist_ ::

Warbling his radio system, Bumblebee played out a couple of songs with a variation of words that all meant 'Frag you'. Almost giggling wildly as he heard the mech in front of him actually pause ridiculously in the middle of the luckily deserted road, Bee flashed his headlights a few times in retaliation to the snarl that had resulted from his choice of songs. Bumblebee's optics had begun to fail from the lack of energy a few hours ago and had continued getting worse progressively, dunking him into a constant mirage of swirling colours and monochromic shades. He was now heavily reliant on the constant presence of his temporary ally in front of him, depending on him to lead him when he suddenly turned blind occasionally. Considering that his sensors were long gone too, it was a relatively dangerous drive to both of them.

Another chuckle threatened to escape from his voice systems, and Bumblebee stifled it down with pure force of will. Swerving left and right, the small scout started a self imposed game of annoy the mech in front. Flashing his headlights continuously into the side mirrors of the Ferrari, he tried to angle the light to splay upon the dashboard of the car and not his unconscious ward. As Knightfire was more concerned with Sam's safety and comfort, he refrained from doing anything that would potentially lead towards the human straining his ribs and various injuries. That however, did not mean that he couldn't give Bumblebee a loud mouthful. :: For Primus sake Bumblebee, have your processor finally broke under _strain_? Your acting like a Sparkling, _desist now_! ::

Bumblebee brushed the comment off with nary a notice, for some reason he just really wanted to annoy the other mech. Call him childish, but he didn't care at the moment. Emulating the sound of a human blowing a raspberry, Bumblebee sent it through Knightfire's comm link with gusto. _Take that!_

With confusion, frustration, and pure shock flowing back through the link, the Ferrari skidded to a sudden halt in front of him. Following suit, Bumblebee braked too, a small distance away from the Ferrari's low bumper.

"Bumblebee" Apparently having had enough of his antics, Knightfire was going to chew him out with audio systems for everyone to hear. Bumblebee braced himself for a lecture and a few Ratchet like behaviours. Speaking of Ratchet, he could have sworn that up till a few minutes ago he could still hear him roaring through his comm links, threatening something about welding him on the roof. Funny how he had now given up on abusing the comm links, especially after he had been so wonderfully supportive of their combination journey effort back to the base. Hysterically laughing once again, Bumblebee played a repeating video of one of Ratchet's infamous medical induced tantrums on his processor. He had found it scary before, but now he didn't. How weird.

"Bumblebee" Oh, he had not been paying attention, and Knightfire had somehow picked up on that fact. Was he going to repeat his lecture again? That wouldn't do. Bumblebee was not a fan of lectures, and besides, Sam had to go back with him soon to Ratchet's tender care, though the 'tender' part was to be debated first. "... are you alright?"

_What?_

Wheels shifting upon hearing the other's concern upon his wellbeing, Bumblebee pondered the question. Was it a rhetorical question that Knightfire was going to answer by himself? A trick question? One that was meant to measure his internal intelligence files? Or maybe it was just his overactive processor playing a nasty trick on him, making him think that the other mech and his passenger was in front of him when in reality he had failed, _failed_, getting his charge back.

_Sam_, processor spluttering, priority questions flew all around his head, _Where's Sam?_

Whining emerged from the Camaro's engine, a pitiful sound that was not meant to ever have been heard by others. Rolling forwards slowly, the front of the yellow car bumped lightly on the other's bumper, as if to test whether the other was really there or not. Frowning in countenance, Knightfire glared unseen in his alt form. What was wrong with Bumblebee?

"Sam?" A pain filled voice floated out from the hood of the Camaro, "Sam?" Coming closer and closer, the other was doing a very impressive job of trying to look in through Knightfire's dark screens at the human that lay inside. Systems straining as he tried to stand a little taller in alt mode to look into the screens, Bumblebee called out his wards name softly again "Sam?" When no answer came, he sunk down on his tyres, moaning fitfully softly. Headlights dimming in the evening light, several hours after Sam's rescue, Bumblebee finally succumbed to his damaged systems and fell straight into recharge right in the middle of the road.

Knightfire stared disbelievingly at the downed mech. Flashing a scan at the other, he analysed it and deflated on his tyres once again. Apparently Bumblebee's system overheating had finally reached his processor and meddled with it, leaving him on a perpetual high with eccentric behaviours to go with, then crashing him in one go. It also left him with a compulsory ten hour _minimum_ shut down period to do basic maintenance and emergency repairs.

"Frag" was the only thing he could say.

_**LineBreak**_

Ratchet glared intensely at his leader's glorious bumper. Sending out multiple silent threats alone with his unseen optics, he whirled his buzzsaw softly within his back compartments, magically broadcasting the sound to a radius of a hundred meters around him.

Optimus twitched.

True to the well honed survival instincts that the Autobots had, all save the unfortunate prey in front Ratchet had already evacuated the area by miles. Aside from Ironhide whom had taken a less speedy but more stable retreat route of pulling away rapidly from Ratchet and situating himself a couple hundred of meters behind him in consideration of the mental frames of his organic passengers, everyone else had pulled out of the area like lightning when they heard Ratchet's spaz start, several mech's proving the origin of their designation's in process. Like what he was named as, Sideswipe had sideswiped the vehicle next to him beautifully in order to escape Ratchet's wrench wielding range. After observing one of their best doing so, the other Autobots had begun a scramble out of the area by all means necessary, starting a pile up of the century. It was only a private message from their leader with threats of sending them for compulsory medical check ups with Ratchet for the rest of the vorn that had subdued them and sent them meekly racing off in a cloud of smoke. And thus, now Optimus was the only one bearing the brunt of Ratchet's anger.

:: Bumblebee :: Trying again to contact the youngest of their members, Ratchet attempted to latch onto his flagging comm link. Tugging impatiently at the line, he sent out a silent promise of eternal doom and looming over the scout if he did not answer. :: _Bumblebee _::

For a moment, a flicker transmitted over the line, feeling somewhat like a bout of hysterical laughter. Ratchet frowned even more, why was Bumblebee laughing when he and his charge were severely damaged? He had expected several worried pings of Sam's status every few minutes, which Bumblebee had done so up till recently, but laughter? That behaviour did not compute, unless he was laughing secretly at one upping the annoyed medic somehow. Maybe he thought Ratchet had forgotten about how he had shiftily avoided mentioning his own damages ever time he had asked him? This would not do.

:: Bumblebee, _respond _::

Absolute silence answered him through the link.

Getting more and more worried by the minute, Ratchet pulled closer to the moving semi truck in front of him. Much to Optimus's eternal horror (perhaps he thought that Ratchet had finally snapped and was going to jump him), he bumped against his bumper and demanded that Optimus increase his speed. :: Move faster, Optimus. I have a negative feeling about the situation with Bumblebee and Sam ::

A weary reply answered his demand :: Ratchet, I understand your need to ascertain the children's conditions, however if we travel quicker it might alert certain parties of our ... situation ::

Snorting through his audio systems, Ratchet replied Optimus's statement with much satire :: Alert them? Optimus, considering how we have not taken notice of stealth ever since we rushed out of base, I dare say that every competent Decepticon have already taken notice of our little 'situation'. Together with Soundwaves spying habits, I wouldn't be surprised if they're already perfectly aware of Sam's disappearance and Bumblebee's clash with the unknown ::

:: Perhaps so, Ratchet, but we still must take caution in approaching Bumblebee's whereabouts without alerting anyone in the possibility that the Decepticons do not know where they are ::

Ratchet gave out a scoff. Decepticons, not know, right. His sentiments must have transferred to Optimus because the big bot sighed imploringly at the green medic. Seemingly eying him backwards from his alt mode (nobody knew where the Autobots optics were when they transformed, and no one dared to ask), both veterans stared at each other, trying to bear sense into the other's head through a pure use of eye-fu. Minutes later of heavy silence, Optimus lost; Ratchet was _that_ well verse in the ancient art of looming and intimidating. Revving his engines with a loud purr, he pulled ahead and shot off in compliance of Ratchets unsaid orders. Basking in victory behind him, Ratchet followed, ignoring the amused glance that Ironhide shot him.

Even the great Prime had to bend to Ratchet's medical poweress sometimes.

Paving a clear road for Optimus and Ratchet, the Autobots that had shot on ahead of them all fell back in line in a flashy procession of cars when Optimus passed them by. Still avoiding Ratchet slightly, their engines growled and purred in union, sending a deep tremble through the ground.

They were a magnificent sight to behold.

_**LineBreak**_

_It was that funny dream again, the one which he keep on dreaming of for the past day._

_Cracking his tired eyes open, Sam took in the violet sky and the captivating architecture again. Failing to push himself up from the total lack of strength in his body and arms, he lay still on the pavement he was sprawled upon, suffering silently with a painful headache. Oddly calm even though he was basically helpless to any threat which might have besotted him, he wondered if he was dead._

_"No child, you are not."_

_Tilting his head backwards in silent greeting to the voice that spoke behind him, Sam rolled his eyes to get a glimpse of his mysterious visitor. When he couldn't do so he sighed into the air, closing his eyes again to rest and listen to whatever his visitor wanted to say._

_"You really shouldn't come here this much."_

_"Why?" If the figure was surprised with his cracked and raspy voice, it didn't show it. Crouching down behind Sam and sending a cooling shadow over his face to block out the glaring light that pierced his eyelids, it lightly poked his throbbing head. Wincing at the resulting discomfort, Sam tiredly glared back as a retribution._

_"Because"_

_When Sam was young, he had hated that answer. More than a decade after his childhood period, he still hated it. Scowling, he flapped his hand around, trying fruitlessly to get a grip on the solid ground and push himself up. When he repeatedly failed, he gave up for the moment and lay trembling, spent, on the floor. Gasping for air that he didn't need, he scowled harshly, why were all these kinds of funny things happening to him?_

_"Because"_

_Glancing up towards the shaded figure seated away from his head, Sam stared. Why had he repeated his answer again?_

_"You asked another question didn't you?"_

_Widening his eyes, Sam stared at the figure, did he just ..._

_"Read you mind? Yes."_

_Scrambling around again, Sam tried to crawl away. Oh my goodness, it was a freakin' mind reader! It was trampling around his mind going through all his personal deep dark secrets! Waving his hands over his head in a show of preventing any secret diggings, Sam panicked. No, he knew everything in his private mind now, including his embarrassing childhood incidents!_

_The figure chuckled, a faint sound that echoed around the hollow space. Gazing fondly at Sam, it raised its hand in a gesture of reassurance and peace. "Fear not, child" It said "I have no intention of going through your deep dark secrets. I am merely watching your mind to check for any damage." _

_Damage? __**What**__ damage?_

_"Perhaps you were not aware of it when you were submerged in the sea, but I'm afraid that you've had a rather rough batch of visitors skipping through your mind at that time. May I suggest that you take your excruciating headache as a proof of what I've said?" _

_Wincing at the headache that he did have, Sam processed that spoken words with much agitation. There were people running around in his mind? And they were causing damage to it as well? __**What**__?_

_"What indeed" Grabbing Sam gently by his arms, the figure pulled him lightly back into the shade it caused "I've no doubt that you would prefer having a sane mind, as such child, I beseech you to rest while I continue finding and healing any damage you have." Petting Sam lightly on his head, it continued its mind healing process and sighed in dismay every few second._

_Fingering the ground beneath his hands, Sam squinted at the glowing figure. While he certainly didn't want to wake up from whatever dream he was having with a myriad of problems with his mind, he wasn't exactly comfortable with having someone running through it. There was also the fact that the continuous sighing was slowly but surely driving him into a fit of insanity. __**What did it mean for him**__?_

_Tapping his head lightly again, the figure calmly began to talk again. "Do not fret child, it is nothing to be worried about. I was merely ... upset about the unpleasant state of your mind after your little visitors were done with it"_

_Well, that didn't sound good. Now with incentive, Sam stared even harder at the glowing light bulb of a figure above him, what did he mean by 'unpleasant state'? The figure looked indignant for a moment, no doubt taking offence at Sam's internal description of him looking like a glowing light bulb. Scowling affectionately at him, it flicked his aching forehead lightly in revenge. "I do not look like a glowing light bulb."_

_"Yes you do," Sam thought challengingly, taking advantage of the fact that apparently he could get full communication sessions over with without talking. Was it this convenient with Bee and the other Autobots when they engaged in silent communication on their links? "And don't change the subject, what was that about my mind being in an unpleasant state."_

_Shaking its head and showering glimpses of hair and metal into Sam's eyes, as if undecided of what the figure really wanted to look like, it/he/she? smiled at Sam warmly. Pushing him firmly against the ground, it chided "Stubborn child, when the time comes you will know the truth. For now, take my word when I say that your mind is as good as new."_

_Glancing at the glowing figure unsurely, Sam sent out his version of an uncertain teenager being asked to trust in the impossible. "Right". _

_When silence ensued for a long period after his sceptical agreement, Sam sneaked a glance at the figure again. Apparently it wasn't interested in answering his questions or reassuring him anymore, but surely it would tell him its name right? _

_"No, child. Not right now."_

_Bloody mind reader. Grumbling mentally, Sam glared at the sky. What was it with people refusing to give him straight or easy to understand answers these few days? If he had to deal with this anymore, he was certain he would start to freak. As if Knightfire's proclamation wasn't enough!_

_A chuckle distracted him, twisting his head around as best as he could, Sam stared at the laughing culprit of his mental tirade. Watching as the figure stood up and brushed its hands, as if to get rid of none existent dust, he was hit with a bout of panic as it started to leave. Don't leave, Sam wanted to call, don't leave me alone here. Even though the place felt eerily like home, he still didn't want to spend the uncertain amount of time left of his visit here alone and weak on the ground. _

_The figure stopped._

_Turning around, the light around it glowed brighter, causing Sam to close his eyes to avoid blinding them. It was intense and warm, not a scalding heat to touch, but a lukewarm feeling that brushed against the skin lovingly and left whispers of wind to remind you of its crossing. Reaching out for the figure and its light, Sam wondered if it would burn if he touched them. Before he was answered though, a hand touched his forehead lightly. "Sleep child" It commanded._

_And so he did._

_**LineBreak**_

Deep breathing invaded the darkened cabin, clouding Knightfire's audio systems with static bursts and a constant crescendo of breaths that soothed softer after every inhale. Listening as the unconscious human within him sigh yet again in some unknown worry, Knightfire stared up into the darkened sky. It was the domain of the night now, and with its parade of stars trailing its skirt, the sky was dark and riddled with sparkling diamonds, shining into the eyes of whoever that was still awake. Silence prevailed through the air with the occasional rustle of wings as an owl or two glided by, hooting to celebrate their free flight in the sky.

How long had it been since they had been forced to stop, crouching low, on the side of this deserted road?

System running smoothly, Knightfire calculated the time they had wasted, perching like a statue in this area. It had been six hours thirty seven minutes and forty nine astroseconds since their unplanned stop, and if Primus was willing another three hours twenty two minutes and fifty one astroseconds or more before Bumblebee would awaken from his emergency recharge, ready to return to where the rest of his group were.

Up till now, the yellow mech was as silent as a grave, unmoving in the spot where Knightfire had been forced to move him to in order to not obstruct any potential traffic. With the fact that they were a pair of very eye catching cars, more exactly a bright Yellow Camaro and Navy blue Ferrari, parking side by side on an abandoned strip of road, they were bound to attract a lot of unwanted attention. Thankfully, as it was now night, not many cars passed them by; There were still, however, some people who stopped to ogle at their paintjob.

Knightfire had been considering of contacting the Autobot Chief Medical Officer, also known as Ratchet, to enquire for assistance for the current scenario. His creator could not be left much longer in his shivering state and had to be sent to a medical facility as fast as possible, however if he left the yellow mech alone in this area without any protection to do so, chances were that he would either get car-jacked or towed away eventually. From the looks of the area, the car napping option was more probable. Who could ignore bright yellow anyway? There was also a good chance that his creator would suffer a heart attack if he found out that his ... friend was left behind helpless once he woke up, and that was a big unacceptable in Knightfire's processor.

Another factor that attributed towards his hesitation was the large possibility of Bumblebee hunting him down for a death match again once he came back online. Considering that he was already sticking to him bumper to bumper over the issue of him taking Sam, Knightfire really would prefer not to experience more of his protective programming manoeuvres. No doubt it would not be good for any of the parties involved in the scheduled brawl that was sure to come.

The Autobots would probably dismantle him if he took off alone with Sam anyway.

A twitch in his back seat dragged Knightfire's processors away from his current preoccupation, automatically scanning his passenger (Knightfire had set his scanners on automatic scan per every ten minutes) he hummed softly as he analysed the results. Clearly, anymore time taken to send his creator to a medical ward was getting less and less beneficial. Sam's physical condition was deteriorating, no doubt from the combination of wounds he suffered as well as the lack of human necessities he needed in order to heal and survive properly. While Knightfire possessed a small range of medical equipment that could temporarily dull Sam's pain as well as sedate him, he did not have any other items that would prove sufficient to sustain the human properly while he waited for Bumblebee to awaken, and as he had already established that he couldn't leave the other ... That meant Ratchet.

The want to contact the medical officer and yet being reluctant to was a contradictory feeling that Knightfire was experiencing. Logic suggested that in the current situation, contacting Ratchet was the best option he had, and a few hours ago, he would have had no arguments against communicating with the medic if needed, even though he would have probably been treated with disdain and threats. He had, after all, taken their precious human away from them. However, after experiencing his second hand wrath through secretly tapping Bumblebee's communication link, Knightfire wasn't so certain of his options anymore. For a mech that had dedicated almost his entire existence to heal others, Ratchet seemed awfully violent; and from the threats he was roaring out loud, extremely deadly as well.

Knightfire shuddered, how was he supposed to protect his charge in face of such a mech? He was certain that even the infamous Megatron mentioned in his databases was a better choice to face when enraged.

_Nevertheless, he __**is **__a competent, if not the best, medic in this planet though._

Decision made, Knightfire warily tapped into the broken link Bumblebee had with the Autobots before he went into recharge and contacted them. An astrosecond later, a reply graced him with its presence.

:: Autobot Chief Medical Officer Ratchet. Bumblebee, is that you? How dare you ignore my communication attempts!::

It seemed like Primus wasn't keen on aiding him today, of all the mech's that Knightfire dreaded contacting, the worst had answered the link. He was also in a mood too. What luck.

Adjusting his voice system, Knightfire sent a clear reply back :: Greetings, Autobot Ratchet, I am Knightfire. Bumblebee is currently incapacitated and in emergency recharge due to his damaged systems ::

Silence smothered across the line and from somewhere on the other side Knightfire was certain that he could hear the sound of a swinging buzzsaw and a few alarmed honks. Albeit he wasn't there himself to witness the ensuing chaos, he could very well imagine it, and if the medic lived up to what he had deduced from Bumblebee's previous cowering and the threats flying across the line, it was certain to be big.

Patiently waiting for the pandemonium to end, Knightfire went through his files on the Autobots again. When he came online, he had already possessed the files on Samuel Witwicky's Cybertronian companions. He was certain that the files were pre-loaded in order to aid his care and protection of child, and had thus digested them with speed. Everything from the Autobots original spark purpose to favourite past time was loaded in them, including their programming profile. Not only one time had Knightfire's processor whirl in awe over the detailed reports, it was hard pressed to find someone who could create such informative files these centuries when the war was going on. Most, if not all information, were locked up in each mech's personal firewall. A leak of information about one's self often proved to be fatal, and that was a lesson that each mech learnt quickly, prompting them all to guard their secrets jealously. If one wanted a mech's information, they would literally have to pry it from his cold dead mind, unless the information was given freely to the questioner. In his case, Knightfire knew that these files were not obtained with their originators approval and were in fact taken secretly. Considering who was digging around for them though, it was no surprise that no one noticed or was hurt. They were just that powerful and skilful.

That didn't necessarily mean that they got all the right information though. According to the files, Ratchet was supposed to have been sparked as a medic, but from the screeches on the other line he seemed keener on offing his own companions as a warrior than anything else.

How confusing.

Just as Knightfire was about to note down a side occupation of 'intimidation specialist' next to Ratchet's 'medical officer' in his files, a deeper voice interrupted him. :: Knightfire, I am Optimus Prime. Where are you now? ::

Switching his navigation systems back on from their hibernation status, Knightfire swiftly sent a copy of his current location to the Autobot Leader. No doubt if he refused to comply with the question, someone from their little group would start trying to hack his own systems, and although Knightfire had relatively accomplished firewalls and defence protocols, he still did not want a constant mirage of badgering at the back of his processor.

:: Knightfire, what is the estimated time of Bumblebee's awakening? ::

Not even bothering to answer the baritone voice, Knightfire flashed another scan at Bumblebee and sent it down another line. More specifically, the comm link belonging to the incensed medic he could hear roaring through the current link he held with Optimus. The medic would be able to answer Prime's question more accurately with the information he had sent anyway.

:: Knightfire ::

:: I've sent a copy of Bumblebee's current status to your Chief Medical Officer three astroseconds ago ::

Another silence occurred and Knightfire could hear a heavy object swerving in the background of Prime's comm link. There was a brief echo of someone yelling "Oh Slag, not again!" in the back and the dull thunk of something metal hitting a tree, then a staticky sound invaded his link. :: Knightfire :: A fuming voice called :: Requesting all previous scans taken since meet up time of you, Bumblebee, and Sam ::

Seeing no potential threat in doing so (the Autobots had a strict code of not attacking any allies, unknown mech's, Decepticons, or not), Knightfire immediately picked out all the scans he had conducted and compressed them through the link in one giant data burst. He took in the fact that he could literally hear Ratchet's gears grinding to a halt with slight amusement as he no doubt processed all the scans in one go. Taking note of the sinister whirling sounds starting at the end of the other line again, Knightfire tuned the temperature higher within his cabin. The night was getting colder with its howling wind and he had no intention of letting his precious charge suffer from what he could prevent. He _was _getting concerned about the slight groans that his charge would give out from time to time though. Was he dreaming or in pain?

(While Knightfire had limited abilities within the realm of dreams, he had capable abilities to eliminate pain. And pain he would eliminate if needed, as that was one of the unacceptable factors that he would not want his charge to experience.)

:: Knightfire, I have calculated the most probable time frame for Bumblebee's awakening. For the minimum option, I would say he could wake up in three hours at the very least. Maximum time frame would be another nine hours and forty three minutes ::

The addressed mech jerked on his wheels, another possible nine hours and forty three minutes? His charge would not last that long. It was simply unacceptable. Three hours was already a dangerous amount of time. Considering the chances of an attack, his charges health deteriorating, or a potential car-napping, it would be in their best interest if Knightfire just left now before it got that long. Forget Bumblebee, Sam would not be able to take that much more abuse to his systems if they had to stay there that long to wait for him.

:: If you are considering leaving Bumblebee behind, I will weld you to the floor::

Processors screeching to a halt when Ratchet oh so accurately stated what he was deliberating, Knightfire sunk low on his tyres. Did they not know that organics were much more fragile and breakable than Cybertronians?

:: My current hypothesis from all the data received from Bumblebee and the health scans taken of Sam that eclipses those taken of Bumblebee, is that you are caring. and _care_, for the child. I am guessing that you are considering leaving Bumblebee behind to fend for his recharging self as you are worried about Sam's less than optimal state and want to take him to a medical centre as soon as possible. No doubt now you are cursing at my inability to understand the fragility of organic beings in comparison to Cybertronians ::

Knightfire stared into space. _Was he reading his processors?_

Ratchet continued his deadpan lecture :: Now your annoyance is morphing into something akin to shock and awe. You are calculating the possibility of me being what humans call a 'mind-reader', and am trying desperately to find the non-existence data leak in your systems. Once I say this, you will undoubtfully stop your already running calculations and deny ever having done so ::

Stopping his frantically running calculations system and indeed not saying a word, Knightfire gazed in uncertainty at his unseen communications partner. His files had not mentioned that any of the Autobots were now capable of long distance mind reading and predicting the future! They must have been severely outdated. To think that there was such a frightful being, with a temper to boot, out there running around! It was a big surprise that Megatron's army hadn't fallen yet, with such a mech hounding him. All strategies would fall in pieces once he glanced, no, once the enemy even _thought_ about it. He would be a horrendous opponent to face on the battle field. Unacceptable, the files must be updated!

Sighing through the comm line as Knightfire was caught in a storm of alert - dangerous potential enemy and alert - severely outdated files must update, Ratchet mused darkly. At least now the other mech would be less inclined to take Sam and leave without Bee in paranoia of Ratchet's assumed abilities, and he wouldn't have to deal with a hysterical Bumblebee in the case of Sam really being kidnapped again. From the scans, Ratchet would estimate another few more hours before Sam would need urgent medical attention, enough time for him to get there if they rushed now. As a result of his constant nagging and warnings to the child of consuming enough calcium and several human-adapted medical rays, Sam had a faster and sturdier healing factor. Taking in the fact that the boy always seemed to be breaking bones and hurting himself left right and centre (even dying), this was a very good thing. There was also the fact that Ratchet would much prefer him being the one to administer treatment to Sam, being more familiar with the child. And as Knightfire had not hurt or left Bumblebee when he initially went under, a smaller chance of things going bad just became smaller. A 'good' in Ratchet's book.

Honking forcefully at the cars trembling in front of him (For Primus's sake, he wasn't even _that_ angry), Ratchet speeded up in the general direction of the stranded group. He was determined to get there before anything went worse or so help him he would throw a fit to be remembered. Behind him, the sparkling new alt mode of Blaster followed, emitting a couple of curious clicks every few moments then becoming suspiciously silent with Optimus trailing besides him. Several metres behind them, the other mech's followed hesitantly. They didn't want to be caught up in the Hatchet's rage again.

:: Knightfire :: Ratchet warned :: Stay exactly where you are. Sam will be fine and I am on my way. Dare to move anywhere else, Bumblebee awake or not, and I will _personally_ hunt all of you down. Understand? ::

A weak :: Sir :: was the answer he got.

_**LineBreak**_

It was nearing the crack of dawn and the birds were starting to shake their wings and take flight. Optics staring solidly on a single rock approximately three metres in front of him, Knightfire pondered the safety of his charge, the irony of the situation, and the existence of medical officer Ratchet.

By Primus, he hadn't even met the officer yet and he was already afraid, not wary, _afraid_ of him! It didn't make sense! Knightfire was sparked to be a guardian and he was not supposed to be afraid of anything in order to effectively protect his ward. However, not five minutes into his conversation with the medic, he was already running avoidance procedures like a rabbit! What was wrong with him?

His creators would be so disappointed in him, he wasn't supposed to act like this.

Sending another scouting sensor out again to check for incoming objects, Knightfire continued to think furiously. Analysing the results while checking his charge and Bumblebee's conditions, he frowned. This was a very distressing situation. If it weren't for Ratchet, he would have already left three hours past midnight. His charge was not looking well and he was getting increasingly agitated over his continuous groaning. When was Ratchet going to arrive?

Resisting the urge to fidget (he had been in the same position for hours), Knightfire scowled. This wait was infuriating. They were basically a standing neon target for both humans and other beings with how long they were just standing still like this. A basic violation of their stealth codes.

"Sam?" Groggy and uncertain, a scratchy voice alerted Knightfire to the other's online status. Revving his engines in an unspoken _finally_, Knightfire flashed his headlights and honked at the wobbly Camaro.

"Bumblebee" He called, sarcasm coating his voice heavily "Good morning, I trust you had a nice sleep."

"Wha-?"

"It is approximately 5.05 am in the morning. Our location is exactly the same as last night's due to your unplanned break down, and currently we are forced to wait here, _patiently_, for your chief medical officer to arrive with his tender mercies."

"What?"

"Have you forgotten your own fraction's medic? The heat must have addled with your systems more than I though. His designation is Ratchet, more commonly known the 'The Hatchet' to some. I believe your Autobots friends hold him in ... high regards" Considering the amount of screaming he heard last night and the first hand talk with the medic himself, Knightfire had no doubt that the medic was _very_ well known.

"What?"

Processors whirling, Knightfire pondered the possibility of Bumblebee having additional processor damages. Maybe his behaviour the night before wasn't a result of his system crashing but a pre-set processor problem. _This is more trouble than it's worth_. He had just decided on shutting himself up and settling down to ponder the situation when he caught Bumblebee's indignant look, apparently he might have stated his observations out loud.

Clicking rapidly, Bumblebee refuted his spoken comments and asked a question that _burned_ him since awakening. "How is Sam? Why didn't you bring him to a doctor when I crashed? _I do not have issues_!"

Knightfire stared back flatly, he would keep his opinions to himself until Ratchet arrived. Moving back and forth slowly to unhinge his stiff systems, he answered Bumblebee's hasty questions. "Sam is fine - _for now_-, I did not bring him to a medical officer due to the stern instructions of your Chief Medical Officer, whom might I add is extremely displeased with your emergency recharge - Bumblebee gaped in horror, Ratchet _knew_? - , as for your issues... I will refrain from judging them for now."

_Yes_, Knightfire acknowledged as he watched Bumblebee's Camaro form flash its lights rhythmically, radiating annoyance, _he was in a ribbing mood_.

Feeling very much like this was the worst recharge awakening he had ever had before (except for the time when he was rudely awakened by some Decepticon trying to cut his cables one day), Bumblebee scowled, not that anyone could see that. Shifting slightly as well, he subtly stretched his stiff systems under the disguise of his alt mode. Moving closer to Knightfire once again, he tried to peer into the screens again in car form, hoping to spot his ward.

"_Desist_, Bumblebee; your alt form is unsuitable to attempt looking through my screens." Knightfire snapped "Scan for Sam instead if your scanners have come online."

Engines growling, Bumblebee proceeded to do so. Thankfully, during his emergency repair and recharge a majority of his minor problems as well as his faulty pipes, optics, and sensors were mostly fixed. They were not completely free of the various kinks and bugs that bothered them, but they were sufficient enough for day to day manoeuvres, including scanning and a moderate paced thousand miles journey home. Checking his resultant scans, Bumblebee groaned in misery. Sam was still unconscious and his injuries had not improved at all. Why were humans so delicate and easy to damage, but not heal?

(Sometimes, it was so tempting to conveniently forget that organics were so much more _fragile_ than they were. Remembering just made every moment less _bright_ when with them, and nobody wanted that.)

"Bumblebee, I assure you that your Chief Medical officer has given an acceptable on Sam's health and status. Do not fret, it will achieve nothing." Opening his back windows slightly bigger (He had already cracked it open by a bit during the night for his charge's ventilation purposes), Knightfire allowed more of the fresh morning air and its dew drops to mingle with the stale air within his cabin. Warming his leather seats up to provide a delightful contrast against the cold morning air, he looked at his charge. Was it a coincidence that he had stopped his fitful moaning when Bumblebee came back online?

Bumblebee protested against Knightfire's words "That does not mean that Sam should have been left here without proper medical attention though!"

"True" Knightfire agreed "However, would you dare defy Ratchet's orders?"

Watching Bumblebee hesitate in answering, Knightfire dryly continued his reasoning "I thought so." Evidently, he wasn't the only one to hesitate on deciding a course when faced with anything to do with the medic. "You would have undoubtfully given me a lot of grief too, if I had driven off with Sam to seek for medical attention, regardless of whether you agree or disagree of my actions now." Something Knightfire would have done too, if the situation was reversed.

Unable to provide a valuable argument against Knightfire's words, Bumblebee dropped silent. He was right, though the part about Ratchet's orders was debatable, with his choice leaning more towards 'no' than 'yes' most of the time (Ratchet was _vicious_ when angered), Bumblebee wouldn't have wanted to wake up with his charge no where in range. Sam was his precious ward to his protective guardian, and he wanted to do his job right.

_Job?_, His processors questioned, _Are you certain he's just a job?_

_No_, Bumblebee agreed, _he is more than that._

Unaware of Bumblebee's internal debate, Knightfire absently started to talk, dealing with his own issues regarding Sam at the very same moment. "If you have no objection, I suggest you settle and wait for Ratchet then. According to his last transmission, his ETA is roughly five hours from now."

Bobbing up and down on his wheels, Bumblebee silently agreed. Not wanting to disturb Sam's rest and affect his health, he refrained from asking Knightfire to move the child to him. He was also aware that his cabin was still not entirely fixed, hence still slightly unstable. He _could_ use his hologram systems to produce a temporary form to keep Sam company though, but thinking of Ratchet's potential reaction to that he decided that he would be better off not doing so for now. Keeping a watchful scanner on Sam, Bumblebee settled down. Perfectly aware of Ratchet's orders on staying still, he set his fixed systems on enemy detection and scouting mode, and started to wait for their arrival. Besides him, Knightfire hummed in appreciation.

Hours crept by slowly, basking them in the sun's warm glow as it rose higher and higher into the sky. The wind picked up its speed and started to brush against both mech's alt form harder. The only sound that penetrated the utter silence that surrounded them was the constant breathing from Sam, and the occasional car that passed them by. When time leisurely approached noon, Bumblebee broke the oppressive silence. "They're not here yet."

Knightfire grunted, a soft sound that vibrated his frame "Indeed. According to data they should have arrived a while ago, if not now."

Looking off into the distance, Bumblebee frowned. This was taking too long. Switching his engines on, he gestured his door at Knightfire to follow. The other mech looked at Bumblebee thoughtfully then revved his engines as well; both silently agreed that Sam could wait no longer. Pulling behind Bumblebee and telling him to lead them to a nearby medical centre that could provide necessary care for their charge, they started their determined journey again.

Ratchet would not be pleased, but both were sure that if they explained the scenario properly he would understand their course of action.

Forgive it though? They were not sure.

Worriedly trying to establish a link with the rest of his group, Bumblebee fretted. Why were they not answering? Concentrating on his driving, he pondered on the significance of the position they were in. This was not good. Hyping his sensors up another few knots, he started to carefully scan their desolated surroundings. Even though it looked like nothing was out there, it didn't mean that there really was nothing there. From the whirling sounds from behind him and the uncomfortable feeling of a scan being flashed out very close to him, Knightfire agreed too.

Moving together in tandem, both mech's raced down the down trodden road with much care and trepidation. There was something increasingly wrong.

:: Do you sense anything? ::

:: No, there's nothing out there ::

:: Should we engage stealth systems? ::

:: It's not going to do us much good in such a deserted area if anyone already knows that we're here, but yes, we probably should. The Autobots can track us later with their comm links if they need to. ::

:: Affirmative ::

Both flicking their systems on, they continued driving down the empty road. Sticking close to each other, they kicked up a stream of dust behind them, blocking their rear view from anyone that might have been watching them from behind. Completely soundless except for the smooth purr of their engines, Bumblebee and Knightfire moved in the direction of the closest hospital, conveniently in the same direction of the N.E.S.T base. When nothing happened to them after a few minutes of driving, both tensed even further, instinct had taught them to be wary of calm situations.

:: Something's wrong ::

:: I agree, it's too cal- ::

Just as Knightfire was about to take a sharp turn and complete his reply, both mech's sensors rang with alarm. Something was heading towards them in high speed and velocity. Ramming his brakes and kicking into an urgent reverse, Knightfire swerved alarmingly off the road quickly to avoid the crash zone while Bumblebee did the same with his armour rapidly forming over his alt form. With Knightfire unable to engage in combat with Sam residing within him, it was up to him to protect his charge. Bracing himself in front of the Ferrari, he crouched low and armed himself.

A harsh crash jarred their systems and a large pile of smoke rose from the ground where unidentified projectiles had collided with. Listening to Knightfire chatter in concern over the moan of pain Sam had let out during the dangerous swerve and bone jarring impact, Bumblebee saw red.

How dare they try to hurt his charge.

Charging up his plasma cannons and readying his shoulder missiles, Bumblebee ordered Knightfire to retreat and escape with his ward. Aiming for the smoky mess that decorated the ground in front of him, he flickered his optics and switched all of his combat procedures on their highest levels. Nothing would get past him to Sam.

From within the smoke, something red peeked at him.

* * *

><p>AN

And ... The fourth chapter!

Pats self on back.

Well there readers, hope you enjoy this chapter that I wrote in the midst of doing my other assignments as well. Reality pup glared a lot at me when I wrote this, but hey, when I gotta write I gotta write.

Wind runs of to finish her assignments.

Dawn takes over.

Hugs Plot bunny. Well all, since assignments are literally pouring in I'll only be able to update once a week. I'll try my best at twice, but for these few weeks I'll probably only manage once a week.

Sighs.

Thank you to all those that reviewed and to those that added this story to their alert and fav lists. To those anonymous reviewers, thank you very much!

Wind of the Dawn is very happy!

Pairings for this fic is still being considered. For now though, it will remain mother hen mode and protective guardian. I'll probably decide in the next few chapters or so, for now I'm gonna concentrate on Sam's communication with Bumblebee, the rest of the Autobots, and Knightfire.

As for who those mysterious beings being mentioned all over the fic, worry not they are not Oc's, they exist. Hints will be dropped sooner or later as to whom are they ...

See ya!

Wind of the Dawn out ~


	5. Chapter 5 Let's Run, Run, and Run

Disclaimer: Transformers, anything to do with it, names and types of cars, and any other characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me in any way, shape, or form (except KnightFire, whose existence belongs to me but name does not). This story is not written or used in any commercial purposes.

Title: Enfolding Grasps

By: Wind of the Dawn

Chance: Let's run, run, and run

Roar of the day: The assignments ... They kill me ... Headache ... Argh ... and now, the worry... Together with this, the ranting ... RAWRRRRRRRR

Warning(s): If you get hurt, immediately see the doctor. And don't try any of this at home or anywhere else.

* * *

><p><em>Decepticons, attack!<em>

* * *

><p>Fiddling was a constant habit that William Lennox had developed throughout the years. When he was stressed, in deep thought, or generally bored, he fiddled with anything in his reach, much to some people's dismay, and now was not an exception. Fingering his standard equipment subtly, Will glanced out at the rising sun over the horizon. Warmth spilled over his hand though Ironhide's tinted windows and next to him his long time partner slumped across his own seat, trying to get some shut eye. Feeling slightly exasperated over the fact that even though he very much wanted to conserve some energy as well he just couldn't, Will let his thoughts flit away into a field of possibilities and outcomes his young friend, Sam, could have been, or was being, enthralled within.<p>

Friend. Was Sam a friend? Will had to admit that though Sam was certainly not just an acquaintance (fighting giant menaces together tended to leave a stronger impact upon the mind), he didn't quite qualify for the title friend either. A friend was someone you could depend on, who could stay with you, and could share fondest of memories with you, someone ... close. And while Sam satisfied the criteria, he didn't at the same time.

He was a paradox. A contradiction within life itself.

Whilst he was close to you, he wasn't close enough. While he could share memories with you, you couldn't tell whether the meaning would be understood or not. Though he was constant presence on the base, he disappeared from time to time, back in the wide world to cling to his 'normal' life, regardless of the danger present.

_Leering, leering. Always in the shadows, waiting for a single mistake, a chance, to swoop in claim their prize._

So, no. He couldn't really be called a friend. He was just too ambiguous to be termed as one. The human portion of N.E.S.T just did not understand him enough to classify him as a friend.

What they could do though, was call him a comrade, a precious member of their force. After all, though he was not close enough, he had their spirit, had their will, had _their desire to protect_.

And he had never failed them once.

_Or maybe, just maybe, he was family too._

"Will," Startled out of his dozing thoughts, Will snapped alert and looked at his sentient transports dashboard. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Ironhide, I'm fine."

Grunting in scepticism, Ironhide drifted closer to Ratchet's vehicle mode in front of him. Listening to his verbal tirade to his unfortunate stress relief target, Ironhide snorted and sent a message to Prime, telling him that he better calm Ratchet down or something unwanted was going to happen again.

Apparently, they were going too slow, and Ratchet wanted to be within a hundred metre proximity of Bumblebee and Sam yesterday.

Huh, figures that he would continue harping on an injury non-stop. It was just so _Ratchet_.

_His spark had never forgiven him for every mech he lost to the darkness, waiting weakly for their medic to arrive on the energon stained ground, while he was held behind the lines, told to wait because it wasn't safe yet._

The male was dazing off again. "If you do not wish to converse with me, just tell me."

A slight smack to his cushioned seats. "_What?_"

"Your heartbeat pattern has been fluctuating ever since we received the comm link from the unknown mech," Ironhide said, his voice deep like the ocean "And it spiked when you answered me just now, giving rise to the possibility that you were lying to me to avoid a conversation. Therefore I assumed that you did not wish for me to pursue this topic."

Will shifted uneasily in his seat. He forgot that he was sitting in a living lie detector with hyper speed logic and deduction abilities. Nothing was getting past him. Patting the steering wheel in a subconscious habit, he attempted to explain his actions. "It's nothing Ironhide. I'm just really tried and this situation is not helping, so I just ... avoided your question." A second ticked past and silence reigned within the cabin. Will fidgeted in his seat again. "I'm sorry."

"There is nothing to apologize for, Will, you are simply tired from the lack of rest." For a war hardened mech that preferred to shoot first and talk later, Ironhide was surprisingly understanding of a human's psyche. Perhaps it was the kindred spirit they shared in protecting what was important to them, because Will and him had bonded like brother's the moment they got to know each other, and were soon charging into combat with each other, trusting the other to guard their back.

Like Bumblebee and Sam, they had a bond too.

Thus naturally, though they seemed to respect each other's personal space, when one seemed to be distressed over something, the other would either badger or guilt trip him into confessing whatever was in his mind or servo. It was literally a ritual now. One that Ironhide excelled in very _very_ much.

_Fess up_, Will's conscience urged, _you know you want to._

Yes, he wanted to; but he didn't as well.

Seconds swayed by in the silent cabin like an orchestra with the distant roar of an engine accompanying it as Will wrestled with his thoughts. Why was he so reluctant to talk this time?

_Samuel Witcwicky was not a stranger to pain and danger, but this was the first time that he was thrust deep within it without someone in reaching distance, coming to save him._

"He will be fine."

"What?"

"Bumblebee is with him, and he will not let _anything_ happen to him."

_No, he wouldn't, even if it killed him._

* * *

><p>Plasma cannons charged and aimed on the blood red object glaring at him through the cloud of smoke, Bumblebee whirled his hydraulics threateningly and sent out a shrill warble of threats and warnings to the mech emerging from in front of him, telling it to stay back and disarm. Behind him, he could hear the distant roar of Knightfire's engine as he raced away with Sam, leaving Bumblebee behind to stall whatever enemy that had come to harm his charge.<p>

_He would protect Sam even if it killed him_.

Throwing caution to the wind, Bumblebee sent a ping out to the Autobots, requesting their location and backup. While he was certain that he could take on the Decepticons, he wasn't delusional enough to believe that he could take multiple numbers of them on and succeed stalling for very long.

Looking into the smoke (something was disrupting his scanners), the scout tried to get a clearer glance at model scheme of his opponent. Intel was an important part of combat and Bumblebee would do well to remember that. After all, it was one thing to go one on one with another scout model; but if his opponent turned out to be a much larger mech, say Megatron sized, it was equivalent to an instant suicide if he just rushed in.

Not that he had any choice in the matter.

_Dust blowing by and in a dim car a boy sleeps on, unwary of the cruel world._

A cracking sound drew Bumblebee's attention to his right. Optics alert and scanners whining, he glanced over the area, sure that a Decepticon was breaking off from the group to tail after his charge and his transport. To his surprise though, there was absolutely no one there.

Impossible. He had distinctively heard the sound of movement from his right. Although his scanners were being jammed from scanning whoever was in the billow of smoke, he was still capable of picking up on anything outside of the obstructive veil. Together with the fact that Cybertronian's and any other sort of life form on the planet were capable of producing minor pulses on his radar-

_Humans and Transformers, so different yet so utterly __**alike**__._

- He shouldn't have missed anything. Unless the Decepticon's had figured out a way of utterly fooling their scanning system and linking them to false data, which would prove to be an extremely tough obstacle to overcome if it really happened.

Foregoing the previous noise to the constantly running side of his processor (He would be foolish if he outright discarded the notion that the enemy might have split up and were in camouflage), Bumblebee looked back at the still rising smoke. Wisping into the sky, it looked remarkably alike to a ferocious dragon taking flight, leaving behind the confines of the land to taste the freedom of the air. He had once felt jealous of the avian life forms that could spread their wings and just take off as they liked, if they could leave the land on whim, what else could they leave behind?

_Eons of war and they still were not done. Bumblebee was tired. So tired._

Inching further back away from the smoke, Bumblebee continued to analyze the brilliant red structure that gleamed silently at him from the midst of the grainy barrier. It had moved briefly just then, but had stilled once the scouts laser target had locked on it. A pity, if it had moved just an inch more, Bumblebee would have had a target fully spotted and ready to be destroyed.

_The Autobots, normally soft, had developed a habit of deadly shots whenever possible after they had seen so many of their friends fall in battle due to enemies they had previously spared._

Wariness that previously occupied his spark was now slowly changing into anger and annoyance. The hidden menace was still refusing to step out of his slowly receding veil, which was unusual considering the usual Decepticon tactic of attack, attack, attack, when faced with a lone enemy. Was he toying with Bumblebee? Telling him through his languish wait that the scout was an enemy not worth a serious battle with?

Or was he planning something with regards to Sam?

_No._

Choosing to take the offensive method for once (Bumblebee saw no further benefit in just standing still like a walking target while he waited for further information), Bumblebee dashed closer to the smoke and the heat that it carried with it. Charging up his plasma cannons while discreetly setting his shoulder missiles on auto-lock, he fervently hoped that his opponent wouldn't be much bigger than him, or if they were, then preferably too big. There was, after all, the saying that the bigger they were, the greater they fell.

Shooting off a few quick blasts in rapid succession, the nimble mech leaped to a side and continued his rapid gait to the enemy. Bumblebee preferred the methods of sudden ambush or mid-ranged combat when engaging the enemy; however, in the current situation those methods were either inapplicable or extremely risky to be employed. He did not have sufficient data on the enemy, and if whoever it was was a close ranged specialist like Sideswipe, he would be doomed if he just charged straight up or stood in the middle hoping his shots would hit before his enemy rushed up to greet him with a slash or two. Better he distract first and attack from the side. If the other mech was the careless sort, he could possibly get a good hit in.

Unfortunately, the mech was not, in fact, careless. Dodging Bumblebee's shots with brutal efficiency, the red mech suddenly turned and dashed straight at Bumblebee with admirable reflexes and confidence. Meeting the determined scout at the middle with a clash of his electric stinger and slash of the mech's own plasma sword, a low laugh echoed throughout the deserted area, giving the mech that still somehow managed to hide within the continuously rising sand and smoke an aura of amusement and superiority.

Bumblebee was infuriated. He may have not managed to damage the mech on the first try, but that did not mean that he was an opponent to be slighted.

Just at that moment, the scout's previously activated missiles took launch out of his shoulder cannons. It had locked onto his opponent previously when they had engaged in swordplay. Jumping back quickly, Bumblebee hoped that he would not be too singed from the resulting backlash as the target was right in front of him. Reflexively leaving a small gap to peek through when he crossed his arms over his face, the smaller mech calmly observed the resulting explosion and picked up on the surprised hum that had came after the sudden launching of the missiles.

Bumblebee always liked moving his processors rather than expending more firepower, and it showed well in his combat tactics. Subtle little manoeuvres like this were commonly utilized by him, and together with the experience and quick movements that he had, they served him well.

This time however, it didn't seem quite enough.

The amused humming stopped for a second, then resumed as Bumblebee warily searched for the once more obstructed mech. Feeling increasingly infuriated by the dilly dally strategy of the enemy (whoever it was was doing nothing but hum), he uttered a few explicit choice of words and fired his charged cannons into the area once more.

Another amused chuckle greeted him.

"Show yourself," Bumblebee commanded, he had no more time to allow such antics. "Face me."

Jubilant laughter ringed through the area again, this time accompanied by the sound of stomping feet on the ground. Apparently, Bumblebee's statement was the funniest thing ever.

"Oh," The hidden figure exclaimed, voice filled with mirth and sounding muffled through the falling grains of sand. "You're as amusing as ever."

_What?_

Bumblebee was just about to retort and demand an answer for that statement when the familiar sound of a charging weapon hit his audio receptors. More specifically, the sound of a ridiculously huge gun ready to be fired. Tossing himself to the left immediately, and just in time to avoid the wide beam of laser that flashed him by, Bumblebee gaped as best as he could without a mouth.

That voice and method of attack...

A bright red figure stepped out of the burning twirl of smoke and sand, dragging along wisps of the mixture behind his armour. A confident smirk flashed itself mockingly at Bumblebee, displaying its owner's glee at getting one up on the baffled scout. Settling an obscurely large gun down on his own shoulder, the mech called out playfully at Bumblebee.

"Aw, Bee. Don't tell me you're not happy at seein' me again?"

The gapping mech failed to utter a comprehensible reply through his glitching processor. Of all the mechs, he had expected to see this one the least.

Then again, considering his personality, it was no surprise that he arrive at such a time in this sort of entrance. It looked like time didn't change him that much as well.

"Cliffjumper," Bumblebee greeted, nodding his head and flashing a quick grin at the red mech. "It's nice to see you as well."

* * *

><p>Miles away, a navy blue streak blitzed down the sandy road, leaving behind gusts of sand and waves of heat. Breaking the accepted speed limit by folds in the rush of leaving the battlefield, Knightfire shifted his centre of gravity lower while altering his form to give himself a more advantageous aerodynamic form. Within him, his creator winced unconsciously.<p>

Bumblebee had full on _ordered_ him to leave back then, and though Knightfire was less than happy to obey the scout's order, protocols had decided that at that moment obeying someone whom did not have authority over him was a small price to pay when it could ensure his creator's safety, the number one priority for all his being. Hence, at the moment, both of them, a sentient Ferrari and an injured boy, were travelling down the road dangerously quick; with the mech aware that whoever was after the boy would not hesitate to fire first if they had them in sight.

_Perhaps I should attempt communicating with the Autobot contingency_,Knightfire mused. Despite him being quite certain that he could outrun any pursuers on ground, with his engine and alt-form both tailored specifically for manoeuvrability, and most importantly _speed_; if any seekers were gaming for him in such a deserted area with absolutely no cover, the odds would not be smiling upon him. Thus, this made the need to seek back imperative. However, if he _did_ try to contact the Autobots... Was it undisputable that his line and location would not get hacked? According to Knightfire's given files, there was an accomplished communications specialist within the Decepticon ranks with the designation Soundwave. What were the possibilities of him listening in on the Autobot's comm links? For all Knightfire knew, his previous communication attempt was the one that had led the Decepticon's to his creator.

Unacceptable. _Unacceptable._

Samuel Witwicky could not, _would not_, be put in harm's way.

Even if it meant that someone had to be sacrificed.

Knightfire knew that when his creator finally woke up from his deep sleep, he would be infuriated and resentful over the mech's decision on leaving Bumblebee behind to fend for himself. Though lacking in combat experience on the planet Earth, Knightfire had a general grasp on how many mech's a scout type Cybertronian like Bumblebee could take on at once without any prior preparation or warning. If there were more than four, or at best five, the possibility of winning was close to nil. There was so much you could attempt before succumbing to the greater number, even if you were one of the best.

_Locked against the rough surface of the rock with another mech trying to eliminate him and Knightfire had seen Sam's eyes light up with joy as he saw Bumblebee in the area trying to find him. Just what was the scout to him?_

Perhaps his creator would grieve if the scout truly perished in battle. Maybe he would screech at Knightfire and wail in agony over the loss of his friend.

_Just what was Bumblebee to his creator?_

However, despite what his charge and creator would want, Knightfire's first priority was to ensure his health and safety. He was not lying when he informed Bumblebee about his lack of desire in taking Sam away again. What he had left out his statement though, was the fact that his lack of desire was sprouted by the fact that the Autobot medic, Ratchet, was by far the most trusted and capable medic on this planet. Now that the Autobot's were not answering his communication requests and the Decepticon's had seemingly come to knock on their doors, Knightfire saw no benefit in waiting for the whole situation to blow over then handing his charge over for treatment. At the rate things were going, if he delayed, chances were that they would either get caught or his creator would suffer irreversible damage from his injuries.

Both were not choices that he favoured.

So now, Knightfire and Sam were both travelling down the lonely plains of sand with due urgency. The mech estimated that if he put in just a bit more of effort and energy in departing the area, he could reach the nearest city district in less than an hour. There he could release scrambling devices and lie low for the danger to pass, as well as provide his creator with much needed medical attention. Supplies could also be picked up there, which must be obtained in order to sufficient provide for the human. This was not the best plan, but in this current situation it seemed the most suitable.

Deciding on his course of action, Knightfire put in an extra burst of speed and raced off furiously. In an empty plain like this, there was no use for subtlety; and hence, no use for illusions for human eyes. Here, he could let loose and race off as fast as he wanted, with no fears of human observation and limits, bar for the few that regulated his alt-form.

_The wind sleeked past Knightfire's armour and he rejoiced in freedom!_

Speed metre pointing at a speed that would have surely sent Sam into hysterics, the Ferrari continued on his smooth journey towards the nearest city. The area here was surprisingly suitable for driving, with close to no bumps or obstacles to be crossed. As far as Knightfire was concerned, this was a good thing. Any more jumps into the air and he feared that his creator's ribs would meet a very nasty accident. Again.

_Knightfire had read Samuel Witwicky's health and injury profile that was located in his pre-existing systems. For some reason, the human was constantly sustaining bruised ribs or cracked bones. It was absolutely baffling on how his injuries had always somehow turned out to be one of those two._

Just ahead was a path of road that was reasonably smooth, and the Ferrari skidded elegantly onto it. Knightfire much preferred to travel on the road. Sand had an annoying habit of going into places you didn't want it to go to, and he did not fancy hours of shaking to try and rid them all. It was relatively hard to do so, and it created quite the itch when driving, as Bumblebee could attest to.

A distressed moan sounded in his darkened interior and Knightfire flashed another scan at his passenger. This was not good. His creator's injuries were clearly starting to get the better of him, and Sam was possibly close to waking up without a dose of pain meds for his ribs and other wounds. Knightfire was by no means an expert on human behaviour but even he could tell that pain plus injury plus edgy human equals bad scenario. This situation had to rectified.

Scanners picking up nothing, Knightfire travelled down the lonely road and started to swerve left according to its trajectory. He _could_ go straight to reach the next patch of the windy road, but as mentioned before, he preferred to avoid the sand and the annoying effects it brought. Besides, sand produced more friction and would damage his tyres more than the paved road could. It wouldn't do for him to be hindered by his own accessories when he needed them lat-

A jarring crash assaulted him from the side and Knightfire felt his back door cave in painfully. Tilting alarming to his right, he vainly tried to stabilize his balance and keep his charge from smacking into the windows. Alert systems whining piteously, he shot a scan in the 3 mile radius and glanced to the side at the same time, seeking out his assailant.

There was no one there.

Baffled, Knightfire glanced around once more while gearing up his stunned engines for another blitz. How could there be no one? His systems had registered damage and he had a dent in his door to prove that he had been attacked, but around him there was not a glimpse of dreaded red optics and all too smug leers. Scanners weren't picking up anything either. So how on earth...

Another blast burst out from Knightfire's back and he quickly skidded to the right and gunned off, hoping that he would be able to outrun the invisible assailant. Unfortunately, the other seemed unwilling to let him get far, as not a few metres later another explosion deterred the Ferrari's way, blooming up into the air with whispers of heat.

"Frag!" Knightfire cursed. He couldn't fight back because of his unconscious charge and he couldn't get away properly without knowing the location and trajectory of his enemies attacks. This was starting to resemble the human's saying of being caught between an organic material and an equally solid surface.

This was a horrible situation, and it was just starting to get _worse_, like oil onto fire.

Skilfully manoeuvring between the explosions that were sprouting from the ground in an unfunny parody of whack-a-moles, Knightfire continued to avoid the attacks as best as he could. From time to time, quick blasts of plasma would be shot somewhere near him, scorching his armour as they came too near. Considering the fact that the mech was already having a horrid time attempting to dodge the explosions, he really didn't appreciate the addition of the plasma shots. At least he knew that he was engaging two enemies, that is, if the area he was in was not in fact booby trapped by Decepticon's awaiting their arrival.

Slag.

Doing a couple of ballet like turns and causing a small whimper from his creator (Injuries and safety harnesses that constantly _strained_ to keep their charge on the seat were not on good terms), Knightfire felt his options slowly run out. He couldn't keep on dodging like this; he would have to engage in combat sooner or later. Sooner being more likely, but where could he place his charge? There was not an area he could reach and deposit him safely. He doubted the Decepticon would leave him alone anyway.

_Unacceptable_.

:: For Primus's sake, stay still! ::

Stunned over the unwelcome intrusion into his personal communications link, Knightfire shook to a stop for an astrosecond then continued his mad dance on the road surface, escaping a particularly nasty explosion from beneath. How on earth did the other one lock on to his communications system?

Another blast shook him hard on his wheels and a shrill screech tumbled through his audio receptors, rattling his processor for that one precious second. Jerking into reverse, Knightfire tried to leave the area with due haste, but a sudden foot to his wind screen stopped him efficiently.

Sharp objects caressed his roof gently, and red plates of metal greeted him in a cold manner.

"Why, hello there," A snide voice said, sun glinting down from the mech's back and obscuring anything that could be seen in a cloak of shadows and sparks "I don't think you're going anywhere."

* * *

><p>"Wait, so you refrained from announcing your arrival in a normal manner just so you could, I quote, 'test out your skills' on me?"<p>

"Nah, Bee. I was tryin' to see whether you improved or not over all this time." Not that he would object to a chance at pulling out his guns.

Easy grins and a lazy gait, Cliffjumper stood relaxed in front of his long time friend, Bumblebee. Waving his hand around in denial over Bee's claim on him testing out his weaponry systems upon the unknowing scout, he gave an ecstatic grin at his long time buddy. They haven't meet for over centuries, and finally the old team were back in action! Watch out Decepticon's, they were back in action.

Meanwhile, Bumblebee stared at his friend, emotions warring between anger and amusement. Who greeted their companions with a blast to the chest? _Though, I suppose, _the scout thought wryly, _I'm not that innocent of the conduct as well_. He was, after all, the one that shot first.

"So, how's everyone?"

Presuming that the mech was asking about Optimus Prime and the others, Bumblebee twittered in happiness and sent off a chirpy "Fine!" . Linking a few files over his friend about the recent events and all happenings that had occurred since their primary descent on the planet, Bumblebee watched in amusement as Cliffjumper's face went through a basket of expressions as he browsed through the files.

"Wow," He exclaimed, unable to decide on a single expression "You all've been busy, huh."

"That's an understatement." Bumblebee didn't think that 'busy' could cover all that they had done so far.

Cliffjumper laughed out loud, a happy sound that tickled the soul. "Nah, you're right. Busy just doesn't cut it. You've been kicking Decepti-butt left and right!" Throwing a celebratory arm over Bumblebee's shorter figure, the taller mech gave the other a fond noogie and gleamed in pride. To think that his young friend had achieved so much here! And speaking of achievement...

Looking around in confusion, the older mech tried to spot a figure that should have been with his friend. What was his designation again? Ah... "Yo, Bee. Where's the organic that managed to off Megatron once?" Cliffjumper really wanted to meet the boy that had done so. It took guts to face off with the big bad.

Bee choked, a disturbing sound that alarmed Cliffjumper. "Bee?" He called in concern "Something wrong?"

"Wrong?" A hysterical note "Yes! I've lost him again!"

Shifting into a Camaro in record time, the scout proceeded to drive off in the general distance of Sam and Knightfire, leaving behind the befuddled figure of his friend under the glaring sunlight.

Cliffjumper gawked, watching as Bumblebee drove off like he had a bunch of Decepticons nipping at his heel. Raising a numb hand in protest, he called out weakly into the distance "Wait, Bee. I don't have an alt mode yet..."

There was no answer.

* * *

><p>Knightfire glared as best as he could at the large red mech that was currently making himself at home on his roof, scratching his paintjob with his spindly toes. Growling deep within his engine, he twitched his tyres in hostility. Who was this... this... arrogant nut job to apprehend him in this manner and now <em>sit<em> on him? If his creator wasn't in the danger of obtaining yet another set of broken ribs from another sudden jerk, he would have shifted and _gut_ the insufferable prick.

"Not so tough now, are you?"

_Let me put my creator down safely then let's deduce how tough I am __**to you**__!_

Calculating the possibility of survival for his charge if Knightfire actually threw him out of the vehicle via ejecting back seats to be able to engage the snobby mech, Knightfire was greeted with a depressing percentage of five percent. Seeing as how the ground now resembled a carrot field with thousands of ravenous rabbits gracing it, chances were that if Samuel was ejected he would probably fall into one of the holes and meet Primus knows what. That or get a rib to somewhere important.

This was a detestable scenario. There was nothing Knightfire could do that could garner a quick rescue or escape, and any communication attempts would most likely be stopped by the other mech that had hijacked his comm links.

A sneer. "Pathetic."

He was not pathetic. He was not useless. _He was not going to put his charge in the hands of those that would hurt him_. Bucking upwards on his wheels with an enraged roar, Knightfire twisted and tried to get the offending mech off him. Sending a silent apology to his creators, he utilized a seemingly impossible turn on his wheels and narrowed his eyes in concentration, moving in rapid circles that soon blurred jarringly. Wincing slightly as he heard the tell tale sound of claws digging into his top, he delivered a harsh jump on his front wheels, sending the other mech over his front and getting a portion of his top ripped out in revenge, exposing his charge to the flittering light that shone down onto his grimacing face.

The red mech turned in the air, landing with impressive grace and solidity. Giving Knightfire an unimpressed scowl, he pointed a gun at the growling Ferrari. "Oh, so you want to fight now?"

"Fight?" Knightfire replied, hidden optics burning with fury. "Fight, no. Retreat, _yes_." Engines wailing with a sudden rush of energy, the blue Ferrari charged straight at the offending mech and forced him to jump or risk being mowed down. Driving off continuously, he rushed down the area and headed to the nearest city in an alarming bout of speed. His charge's safety was priority, and no personal grudge would change that.

Behind him, in the increasing distance, Knightfire heard the foreboding sound of a shooting gun and swerved to avoid an incoming blast. Sensing the heat that erupted not far behind him, he sent out his scanners again to keep an eye on the other bot. When they came up with nothing again, he sent a glance back.

There was no one there again.

_No, not not there_, Knightfire thought in sudden revelation, this was... _merely invisible_.

Cursing in aggravation, Knightfire rewrote his enemy engagement systems. Being invisible was a huge bonus to allies, and a huge bitch to face one on one on the battlefield. You couldn't tell if the enemy was right in front of you and wouldn't until they shot you, unless something gave them away; and Knightfire intended to create that 'something'.

Increasing his speed yet again in a large measure that was sure to give him issues, the Ferrari created a large dust cloud behind him and spiked off a short burst of signal scramblers. Crashing to a stop not far away from it, he hastily set down his creator on the ground behind him and transformed as fast as he could, shielding the boy from incoming shots,

Loading his plasma cannon into its highest setting, he aimed and waited, watching the cloud of sand for the telling signal of an object driving through it. Lo and behold, not a second later, the suspicious shape of a vehicle like object burst out through the sand and smoke, trailing behind it wisps of the mixture.

_Target acquired_

Letting loose a large blast of plasma, Knightfire crooned in liberation when he saw the shot impact against something invisible and the sound of a pained shout. Locking onto the sound, he repeated his shots, now with it set on rapid fire.

Apparently suffering enough abuse, a static of space sent a now smoking figure down onto the ground, revealing him for Knightfire. A groan emitted from the downed figurine, expressing the mech's current condition loud and clear. Knightfire gave a grim smile, even though his weapons were not upgraded or powerful enough, a plasma shot to the face and a continuous barrage tended to have that effect.

Not waiting for any recovery, he picked up his charge and transformed once again, enfolding the boy within his protective grasp. He would send him to a medical facility now. Gazing back at the groaning mech, he narrowed his golden optics. They would finish this fight one day. That said, the Ferrari drove off with his pale charge, not noticing that several miles behind him a frantic Camaro was calling for his charge.

* * *

><p>A little extra ~~<p>

Cliffjumper's problem:

Staring blankly into the towering distance as the faint yellow dot that was his friend drove off in urgency for _something_, Cliffjumper gawked helplessly. Here he was, friend of Bumblebee, met and ditched within the span of five minutes, maybe less. To make the situation worse? _He had absolutely no method of going after the scout because he did not have a single workable schematic for the planet's alt-form._

What was he supposed to do, transform and crawl after the scout in an alt-form with no wheels? Bumblebee seemed to have forgotten that newly arrived mech's had no pre-existing data on the planet's local infrastructure and vehicles. He had also seemed to forget the fact that any alt-forms they possessed on Cybertron depended on the lack of heavy gravity and the presence of magnetism. So what was he going to do now? And to think that scout didn't even spare the thought of leaving behind the local wave length of the Autobot's comm link. All his previous ones were useless. Knowing Ratchet, the wave lengths were probably switched again to prevent mech's like Soundwave from accessing them. Probably had a password system too, one that would reprogram anyone without the correct answer into a curling iron, or something equally embarrassing.

_Nooooo_, the red mech despaired, _Bumblebee come backkkk_.

Seeing as how his silent plead was unanswered, Cliffjumper shrugged in dismayed acceptance. There was no use moping about the scenario, might as well see what he could do. Shifting carefully to the nearest stretch of the deserted road, he resigned himself to hours of waiting for another car to pass by. From the looks of the place, he'd most likely have to wait for a long _long_ time.

Putting his scanners on adaptation mode, he sat hidden behind a self made mould of sand. Peeking out occasionally at the presence of sound, he waited... and waited... and waited...

Oh, Slaggit.

Ever the impatient one, Cliffjumper sulked. He would _never_ catch up with his friend... Wait a sec, was that...

Looking over his camouflage, the red mech peeked into the distance, searching for the origin of a vooming sound. Optics lighting up in happiness when he saw that there was indeed a vehicle heading towards him, he rejoiced and slapped a scan at it just as it passed him by in a blast of cheery music, downloading the specs into his system and ingraining them to replace his previous and unusable alt-mode.

Not believing his luck, once his systems fully adapted, Cliffjumper transformed.

And gaped in horror at his appearance.

He had scanned a Beetle. A Hot _Pink_ Beetle.

Oh, he was _never_ going to live this down.

Expressing his embarrassment (Pink! _Hot Pink_!) in the form of sinking tyres, Cliffjumper sulked for a moment. Then, very reluctantly, he drove off slowly in the sunny day, following his friend into whatever trouble he was jumping into.

The things he did for Bumblebee.

* * *

><p>AN

And viola ... The new chapter! And... Thank you to all those that updated or added this to their favs or alert list

Wind and Dawn is very sorry over the supa late update!

Once more, reality and assignments had taken a hold of us and refused to let go. Now that we're almost done... Here's the chapter!

~Mopes over possible results of assignments... ~

Haiz~

In this fanfic, Wind will be assuming that the colour of the Cybertronians are decided by the alt-mode they take on, and hence if they retain a certain mode from another area before taking on another one, they will be of that colour when they first arrive. Thus... Tough luck Cliffjumper...

Please review and leave a thought ~~

Thank you.

Wind of the Dawn out~


	6. Interlude: A Moment in Awakening

Disclaimer: Transformers, anything to do with it, names and types of cars, and any other characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me in any way, shape, or form (except KnightFire, whose existence belongs to me but name does not). This story is not written or used in any commercial purposes.

Title: Enfolding Grasps

By: Wind of the Dawn

Interlude: A Moment in Awakening

Roar of the day: Err….. Please don't hurt me? (Ducks tomatoes)

Warning(s): If you get hurt, immediately see the doctor. And don't try any of this at home or anywhere else. THIS IS NOT REAL.

* * *

><p><em>Silence permeated the area, its name the eternal fate of those that dwelled there. Incorporeal like mist, it resided over its still subjects like a king of light and darkness. Illusive and oppressive, none could and would find the will to rebel against it.<em>

_After all, why fight when oblivion and sweet relief was its gift towards its vassals?_

How long had it been, the time that he had been here?

_Forget. Forget. Silence beseeched. Reminisce not and sink into slumber, for with it comes everlasting peace. _

He had failed.

There was nothing left to live for.

_Drop down, child, into the quiet's cold arms. Let it embrace you and sooth your regrets away. Rest forever here, where nothing will ever disturb your sleep._

All he wanted to do now was forget. Forget, and slide back into the mind-numbing slumber that the phantasmal silence offered.

This was, after all, his right within this land.

The land of the end.

_It was a place so many came to, just for a glimpse of that fragile peace they could not find. Addictive. Alluring. Not all wanted to leave once they came here. Understandable, considering the nature of things happening above._

_You never really appreciate what you have until you lose it._

What he desired was for the silence to swallow him up; mind, body and soul.

He didn't want to remember all his failures, his _regrets _any longer. How convenient it was that silence was offering him exactly what he wished for. Oblivion and a quiet of mind.

_Yes… Come back, child, and let us enfold you within our smothering grasp of darkness. No light will ever touch you again. No soul will disturb you. No sound will ever make you grieve…_

_Yes_, mind whispering weakly with the rest it sorely wanted, the mech drooped into slumber again. Optics fading to black, he prepared for the tranquillity that came with the quiet. It was for the best, he had failed already and staying awake would accomplish nothing. Better to sleep, and forget.

[Is that so?]

Even centuries would not dull instincts gains from the trails of combat. Optics flaring brightly, old energon (_still for so long_) flowed through his frame with the fluidity of water; waking up every limb and weapon that had been stagnant for (_how long had it been?_) ages.

_Who is it_, he wanted to scream, _who? _But he didn't.

_It was unspoken rule here that words were not, would not, ever be needed. Speech is silver, but silence is golden. This was a rule enforced by the oppressive hands of silence itself, its punishment the kindling of every pain that had been endured and the deprivement of serenity._

_It hurt too much to remember._

[Yes, but is the peace from forgetting really what you want?]

_A nanosecond _(telling)_, then a silent question. What else, aside from peace, did he want? To drown in the silence. To seek sanctuary from his failings. That was all he desired nowadays._

_It hurt so much._

[… I know it does.]

_Then let me sleep._

[But consider this, is this sort of peace what you really long for?]

_There was no other he could seek. He was not worthy of the peace from accomplishing his spark's purpose._

[Oh?] _Amusement and a tinge of well-hidden sadness _[Is that what you think?]

_He didn't think, he _knew_._

[Then why don't you have another try?]

_A quick shift of emotions occurred. Firstly, confusion of what was asked; then anger, from the imagined mockery of his failure being asked to be repeated again. A moment later, disbelieved hope._

[It's not every orn someone gets another chance for reaching their goals. What do you think? Do you want to risk this unsuitable peace for a peace that you truly want? A peace from succeeding in what you have failed in before?]

_Yes. YEs. YES. _

_His spark screaming for the chance to strive for his purpose again, to achieve what he had been born for, the mech stood up._

_Then faltered._

_By Primus, how he wanted another chance, but what came with this chance? Success could not be guaranteed and no matter how he wanted true tranquillity from knowing that you had done your best and had fulfilled what you had lived for for eons, failure was still an option, and with it the spark wrenching pain. Wouldn't this peace, though false, be better? The silence would numb his grief and smother his regrets. He could sleep eternally under the blank sky with the quiet stillness as his blanket and the darkness within his mind his pillow._

_Wouldn't it…_

[Child] _A warm voice (how familiar) disrupted his chaotic thoughts._

_A warm gust of wind across his face and the pleasant rays of sunshine sparkling within his mind; the signs of life and hope._

_The signs for another _chance_._

_(His choice had already been made the moment he had received it.)_

[Silence is still a noise.]

* * *

><p>Optics flared to life.<p>

* * *

><p>Authoress's note…<p>

Ok… so…. Its been a year…

Haha….

Please don't be angryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! (Ducks from various potatoes and tomatoes from readers. Gah)

So anyways, sorry about this not being an actual chapter. Trying to get back into gear here.

Actually got the idea to write this… POV (but whose is it?! Mwahahaha)… while I was knitting… Good stuff, that. The mind numbing enjoyment of knitting… and knitting… and knitting… It's surprisingly addictive… and calming.

Btw, the proverbs used are:

Silence is still a noise (American proverb)

Speech is silver, but silence is golden (English proverb)

… Hopefully another chapter will be up soon…

Until next time!


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